


Slide Through the Darkness

by Meddalarksen, victoriousscarf



Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop, Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Multi, Villain Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-16 16:16:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 97,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/541415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meddalarksen/pseuds/Meddalarksen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world were darkness is power, and the males role is to protect and serve, a new member arrives at one of the darker courts of the realm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. But You Do Owe Me

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes a little while to get to the darker elements, but we're also trying to be upfront here, and frankly the world it's based on is a pretty wonderfully dark one. Not that you need any knowledge of the Black Jewel's universe, though we've technically tried to fit the story into the future of the world (At least a 100 years after the end of the Black Jewels trilogy). 
> 
> Concerning warnings: Underage? Technically referenced. Rape/non-con? Flashbacks moreso than a main part of the story. Character Death? Unavoidable in the world. Depictions of Violence? Possibly on this side of non-graphic but we'll be safe here. 
> 
> Some basics of the world: There are different Castes of the Blood, who are the ones who use Craft which is their form of magic. Their Jewel rank/color shows how well they can use Craft and how powerful they are, the darker the Jewel the greater the power, ranging from White, with Opal as the dividing line and Black as the darkest. (Check out more -> http://blackjewels.wikia.com/wiki/Jewels). 
> 
> Queen is the highest rank for females, Warlord Prince for males. 
> 
> For more notes concerning the world, check out endnotes.

Martin strolled into the room, looking down at the sheets of paper in his hands, glancing up when he entered. "Mistoffelees," he greeted, the black-jeweled Warlord Prince grunting, lounged out over the couch, a book in his hands. "I have a job."

"I don't want it," the smaller man replied, not taking his eyes from the book.

Scowling, Martin strolled over, shoving Mistoffelees' legs off the couch, causing him to practically fall off, dropping the book to catch himself. "You'll take it because I tell you to," Martin said, staring dispassionately down as Mistoffelees' eyes snapped up, dangerously close to feral anger.

"I'm not your slave," Mistoffelees told him, shoulders tense and anger underneath his skin.

"No," Martin agreed, sounding downright amiable. "But you do owe me, remember."

Rising, Mistoffelees rolled his shoulders, straightening. "Fine. What is it then?"

"Destroy her," Martin said, handing the sheaf of papers over.

o-o-o-o

Coricopat yanked another volume off of the shelf in his study, glancing over his shoulder at his Queen, "I've already expressed my opinions on this.  As has Macavity, and Sonya.  Which part of our concern is not getting through to you?"

Griddlebone leaned against his desk, her arms crossed over her chest, "He'll be a strong asset to the court.  We've been over this.  And over it and over it. I've made my decision."

He turned to her, grey eyes worried, "A Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince and you think this is a wise decision?  Griddlebone, please, think about this."

"I already did think about it and it's too late to take back the decision now.  He arrives today."

"In less than an hour," Macavity nodded from where he was sitting by the door, legs propped up on the small coffee table. "We even have a room prepared."

Coricopat offered the other man a long look, "Feet off the table, Mac."  Griddlebone rolled her eyes and lifted herself up to sit on the desk.

"She's sitting on the desk," Macavity pouted, pointing.

Sonya entered the room, glancing between everyone. "I see we're still in lecture mode," he said mildly.

"Oh like you haven't been trying for the last week and a half too," Coricopat responded, looking at the Consort before turning his gaze on his Queen.

"Yes, but I have much more subtle and enjoyable methods of persuasion," Sonya replied and paused. "Which didn't work either."

Griddlebone shrugged, "We have chambers for him, and he arrives in an hour, as Macavity said. The discussion is closed, and the lecture's irrelevant." Slipping from her perch, Griddlebone crossed the room, looking at the three men for a long moment, "You've all done very well trying to persuade me, but as it stands I want all three of you ready to greet him when he arrives and to at least try to make him feel welcome."

"Of course," Sonya replied, voice warm and smile easy.

Macavity huffed, dropping his legs from the table and leaning his elbows on his knees. "We're inviting someone more powerful into our home, into your seat of power, with no real idea how to, I don't know, stop him if he goes ballistic, and we have no idea what got him so desperate for a court anyway. Besides, I'm the master of the damned guard, am I supposed to make _anyone_ feel welcome?"

"You're exempt from the welcoming bit, though I expect you there," she responded, coming to a stop next to Sonya.  "But, I do expect you not to be too harsh on him.  Let him underestimate our strength.  More powerful than we are or not, that sort of hoped for miscalculation on his part could be our key if we ever do have to deal with him."

"If you're thinking of dealing with him, why invite him?" Macavity demanded, spreading his arms out as Sonya nodded, smiling softly at his Queen.

"I'm hoping it won't come to that," she answered.  "He needs a place to be and here is as good a place as he will find."

Coricopat arched an eyebrow, "Yet you're still telling us not to show our full strength."

"Some of your lectures have stuck.  Why show our full hand?"

Her Steward crossed his arms, keeping his tone even, though his expression was stormy, "Right, don't show our full hand.  Do you want us back to our Birthright Jewels too?"

"I wouldn't ask that of you."

"But you would ask us to welcome a threat into your home."

"I mean, how scary could one black jewel Warlord Prince be?" Macavity spread his hands out. "Oh yeah, _no one here knows_. Just those horror stories still cycling about Sadi and Yaslana. And they had a Queen more powerful than either of them."

Coricopat nodded his head in Macavity's direction, "Exactly what he said.  There's a very good chance that he could tear this place apart if he got it in his mind to do so."

Griddlebone pursed her lips, looking between them, "I know you're worried.  You'd be fools not to be, but I've given you my decision and it's going to happen, so it would be best to come to terms with it."

"Do we have to come to terms right now?" Macavity asked as the door pushed open, Jemima sticking her head in.

"If there's going to be an official welcoming party, it's needs to get it's ass moving," she informed them. "Since he's here."

Griddlebone straightened, looking over the three men, "If you plan to be with me you'd best come now."  With those words she swept out of the room, headed for the entrance hall.

"Our choice being?" Macavity asked.

"None," Sonya informed him, hauling him up by the collar of his shirt, even though they were about the same height, and Macavity was possibly broader in the shoulders. The Master of the Guard muttered but allowed the treatment, rolling his shoulders and pulling his shirt down once he was on his feet.

Coricopat sighed and absently straightened something on his desk before running a hand over his black hair to smooth it and heading for the door, "We might as well be on our way.  Get a look at him and find a way to start planning what to do just in case."

The other two men nodded, falling in behind him as Jemima shook her head and followed, hands crossed serenely over her chest.

Griddlebone looked up as they arrived behind her on the front stairs and murmured, "So glad you decided to join us." Coricopat offered her a long look at that before turning his attention to the doors which were opened to allow the new arrival passage.

Mistoffelees strolled in, hands in his blank pants pockets, looking around the foyer with curious green eyes, wavy black hair dangerously close to falling in his eyes, unsure how to feel about the group of people arrayed in front of him.

Standing behind Griddlebone, where he could best protect her, Macavity choked.

Griddlebone stepped the heel of her right foot back just enough to land it on Macavity's toe before stepping forward and offering a smile to the man before her, "Welcome.  We're so very glad you've come."

To Macavity's left, Coricopat arched a brow, though his lips quirked upward slightly.  His gaze hadn't left Mistoffelees since the other had arrived, but it also hadn't stayed locked on the other man's face.  Carefully sizing him up, the Steward glanced briefly away toward the Master of the Guard and the Consort.

Sonya's head was tilted to the side, as if not what he'd expected and Macavity was clearly trying not to laugh loudly, Jemima still standing to the side of the group as Mistoffelees approached Griddlebone, looking her over after having sized up the males behind her.

"Thank you," he murmured, voice lower than expected. "I am glad you allowed me to come."

"But of course.  If you'll allow me to introduce Macavity, Sonya, and Coricopat," she indicated each man in turn.  Coricopat inclined his head slightly to the Warlord Prince his gaze flickering from the man to his Queen.

Mistoffelees looked between the three of them, trying to place them with things he had heard. "Master of the Guard, Consort, and Steward?" he confirmed, lingering more over Steward than he had meant to.

Griddlebone nodded, "Yes, that's right."  She turned to indicate the other woman present, "And this is Jemima, another member of the court here."

Inclining his head, Mistoffelees paused as he noticed the red jewel hanging from her neck, the tiny hourglass indicating she was a Black Widow dangling from the same chain. "Charmed," he murmured, noticing Sonya's carefully neutral expression and Macavity's glare. Of the group, only Jemima and Griddlebone seemed at all interested in having him there.

Which was just about what he'd been expecting.

Coricopat's expression wasn't quite hostile, more wary and calculating than that.  "I supposed you would like to get settled in?" Griddlebone offered.

"If that would be possible," he said, shoulders straight and bored tone belaying how tired he felt.

The Queen glanced at her Steward who stepped forward, "We've had chambers prepared for you, if you'll follow me."

"Certainly," Mistoffelees said, cursing himself for not remembering that of course the Steward was more likely to be the one fulfilling that duty. He inclined his head to the others, trying not to smirk too obviously at the glower he was being sent by the Master of the Guard.

Coricopat offered Macavity a slight upward turn of his lips as he passed.  Leading the way up the stairs and down the left corridor toward the rooms set aside for the new arrival, he spoke to the smaller man as they made their way through the halls, "I do hope you find things here to be to your taste.  If there's anything you need, though, don't hesitate to let us know.  Any questions you have we will do our best to answer as well."

Hands in his pockets, Mistoffelees strolled along beside him, eyes roving around the corridor. "I'm sure anything here would be to my tastes," he murmured, easily enough. "Even if it's not, I would hardly put up a fuss."

Arching an eyebrow as he glanced toward the other, Coricopat considered him, "Well, there's already been a bit of a fuss made, so a little more would hardly be more trouble.

Mistoffelees shrugged, carefully not thinking about other courts he'd walked through. "There seems to be enough of a fuss here."

Coricopat's lips twitched upward slightly at that, "Perhaps.  Though it's hardly a bad thing."

"Fuss isn't a bad thing?" Mistoffelees asked, quirking a brow and glancing over at him. "I can almost hear a chorus of Steward's voices rising in protest."

That garnered a chuckle, "It entirely depends on the sort of fuss and how much of it is being caused at a given time.  On average?  It makes life interesting and as long as I'm still able to keep the court organized and at least mostly balanced then a little fuss makes for a break in monotony."

Mistoffelees blinked, lifting one shoulder slightly. "One might think your Master of the Guard would cause enough of a fuss to keep you occupied."

"Most of the fuss comes from him, actually.  Though if I don't know how to deal with that in an expedient manner by now I never will learn."

"Have you learned then?" Mistoffelees asked, almost teasing and mentally shaking his head at himself.

The Steward offered him a bit of a smile, "Mostly.  He will always find something new I'm sure, but mostly."

"And how long does it take you to find an efficient manner of dealing with fuss?" Mistoffelees asked, tilting his head.

"With Macavity or in general?"

"Well, I'm trying to figure out how much fuss to make until you can deal with it, and how long I might be able to find amusement before it goes too far," Mistoffelees shrugged, tone suggesting he was joking.

Coricopat glanced at him, keeping his tone light as he responded, though he filed the comment away for later, "Well as I've not yet seen the sort of fuss you can make I can't say with any certainty how much of it I can handle."

"So you're the type who likes to be prepared with facts before making any firm statements then?" Mistoffelees asked, still casual.

"I like having something on which to base my judgments," he responded, pausing outside a dark wood door.  "Ah, here we are.  Your rooms, sir."

Mistoffelees shrugged, pushing the door open and stopped, looking around. The room was sparse by certain standards, but the bed was pushed against one wall and looked more plush than any he'd seen before on a regular basis. Everything looked comfortable and suited to his taste with room for personalization. "Apparently you had something to go off," he said, looking around again.

"Not much, unfortunately.  So as I said, if you need anything, or anything isn't as you would like it, don't hesitate to let me know," Coricopat spoke softly, his gaze sweeping around the room before focusing on the other man again.

"This will be," he started and tried again. "More than sufficient. It," he looked around again, pausing. "Is very clean," he managed, probing for any hint of another physic scent and coming up with nothing.

The Steward nodded slightly, "We did our best to ensure that.  Give it a couple of days and see if you say the same then.  I need to be returning to my work.  Good afternoon, sir."

"Thank you," he said, carefully inclining his head.

Coricopat offered him a slight bow in response, slipping out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Once he was gone Mistoffelees started poking around the room, seeking out the corners and crevices, before carefully sitting on the bed, as if it still surprised him.

With a deep breath, he called in the two chests he kept with him, riffling through the first for several things he was willing to unpack and leave in the area, sending the rest of the contents back with the chests.

o-o-o-o

Coricopat unlocked his study, crossing the room and pouring himself a drink from the crystal decanter on a small side table.  He considered it for a moment with a sigh before taking a sip and moving over to his desk and the information that waited for him there.

Moments later Sonya entered, Macavity nearly stepping on his heels. "You're drinking," Sonya remarked. "Is it going to be that bad?"

"I'm having _a_ drink," the Steward corrected.  "Pour yourselves a glass if you feel the need.  He's already asking questions about limitations."

"Already?" Sonya asked, looking distressed as Macavity moved quickly to take up the offer of a drink before it could be taken away.

"How'd he like the room?"

"Already," Coricopat confirmed.  "As to the room, he says it will be more than sufficient.  Beyond that? I got little reaction out of him, beyond a statement that it was very clean."

"He seems quiet," Sonya mused, well versed in careful silences.

"He seems like he's hiding things," Macavity huffed.

Sonya gave him a long look. "Or he has a longer past than you have a memory."

Macavity rolled his eyes. "That almost hurt, you know."

"Or both,” Coricopat cut in. “He's very charming when he does speak, and he's well versed at keeping the conversation going without actually ever giving anything of himself away," the Steward frowned down at his desk for a moment, shaking his head.

"So we have a charming mystery in our house with more power than anyone here," Sonya finished, fingering opal jewel, more aware than he had been in years that he stood at the dividing line.

"Shouldn't be too much of a problem," Macavity said, throwing one hand out and plopping down. "He's just a Warlord Prince with a temper that rides the killing edge with no concrete knowledge of who he is or where he came from, and since he's a damned long lived sort, we don't even know how old he could be. Hell's fire. This should be exciting at the very least."

"More exciting than I care to contemplate," Coricopat rejoined, his gaze moving to Sonya's jewel briefly.  "We're just going to have to be extremely careful with what we say and do around him, at the moment that's the best we can do."

"I just want to know what he was running from, coming here," Macavity said.

"He might not be running from anything," Sonya protested.

Coricopat offered Sonya a look at that, "Until we know that for certain it is far better to assume he is."

Sonya shrugged. "I'm just saying we might consider not assuming anything at this point. Not until we understand him better. Our Queen did invite him here."

"And here he is.  Within the heart of her home," Coricopat sighed, but finally nodded.  "Though you're probably right.  Making assumptions at this stage is more risky than it is beneficial."

"He could just want a new start," Sonya said and Macavity managed not to scoff verbally, shrugging instead.

o-o-o-o

Mistoffelees jolted out of the nightmare violently enough, that if he had been home he would have tumbled out of the bed as his muscles unlocked, biting a scream back in his throat. Instead, he rolled into the wall and spent several wild eyed breaths remembering where he was and that nightmares had no place in his head. At least, he needed to pretend rather badly that they didn't.

With another deep breath he shoved the sheets back, dressing quickly and sticking a pack of cigarettes in his vest pocket, not bothering to dress fully but taking an easier breath once his black jewel was hung next to his skin, underneath his shirt.

Glancing at the clock, he realized he'd slept later than usual, as it was almost three in the morning. With another breath, he slipped from the room given to him, trying to match the actual layout of the place with the map he had in his head, attempting to find a lonely corner for the next few hours.

He ended up in the crook of two branches of a large tree in the garden, smoking quietly at he watched the moon move across the sky.

Munkustrap strolled through the shadowed corridors, finally stepping out into the moonlit gardens and starting down one of the paths.  He'd been restless for a couple of nights and had told himself that a walk around the grounds would give him the reassurance he needed to actually get back to sleep.  Tensing at a shift in the branches of one of the trees, he looked up, not wanting to startle whoever was perched there.  On the other hand, he hadn't kept his presence a secret in his progress across the garden so they ought to know of his presence.

Glancing down at him, Mistoffelees arched a brow. "Dawn isn't for another hour, you know."

The other man nodded, "I had actually noticed that.  Couldn't sleep either, hm?"

Mistoffelees laughed, the sound not particularly happy as he took a long drag from what must have been his fourth cigarette since he woke up. "Generally not. You?"

"Not for a while, no.  Besides, it means I see this side of the sunrise which few can say," he leaned against the base of the tree, his head tilted back to watch the other.

Mistoffelees' mouth twisted bitterly and he smoothed his expression out. "Do you think such an elite group might get rewards?" he asked instead. "You've seen this many sunrises, you get an updated medal."

"Well, that all depends on if you know who to ask.  Sometimes, though not always, one can obtain something fresh from the kitchens if you offer flattery to the cook," Munkustrap responded.

Mistoffelees paused a second too long. "Cooks generally give up for flattery."

Brows rising very slightly, Munkustrap nodded, but didn't comment on the pause, "Yes, but to get a slice of the morning's bread before it goes to table, now that's when flattery really has to come to the fore.  That or simply looking a bit chilly--which doesn't work well in the summer months."

Mistoffelees glanced down at him, reassured that he was right and the other male was not a Warlord Prince--they could be chilled any time of the year after all. "Well, I'm sure warm bread is even better in the winter anyway."

"One would think so."  He tilted his head back a bit further, considering the other, "You're the new arrival, aren’t you?"

"I'm certain that's not hard to figure out," he murmured, lighting a new cigarette and considering the moon again.

"Not especially, no."  He turned his gaze to the dormant garden, asking after a moment, "What do you think so far?"

"It's quiet," he said and paused. "And clean. And... different."

"Clean?"  Munkustrap blinked at that, tilting his head back again.

Mistoffelees paused, realizing what he said and let out a careful breath. "Surely you know what the word means."

"I do.  I just, I find it odd to use it in reference to this court.  At least with, well, surprise."

"Than you've lived in different places than I have," Mistoffelees replied and scowled at the cigarette he was holding.

"I don't doubt that," Munkustrap replied quietly.  "Is this at least a good different?"

"I suppose we'll have to see," Mistoffelees replied after a moment, slipping down from the tree. "Enjoy the sunrise," he added and turned to retreat.

The other man watched him go, considering for a long moment before taking a different route back inside and positioning himself outside of Coricopat's door to wait for the Steward to arrive.

 Coricopat arrived as the sun was rising and he blinked for a long moment at the Sapphire Warlord leaning against the wall outside his study, "Can I help you?"

Munkustrap straightened, "I wanted to talk to you."  He glanced around, "Privately.  I think this is something you ought to know."

Eyebrows rising sharply at that, Coricopat opened his door and stepped inside, motioning the other to join him.  Leaning against his desk and waiting until Munkustrap took a seat he tilted his head to one side and crossed his arms, "Now what is it that was so pressing you had to be the first one here, even before me?"

"I couldn't sleep early this morning so I went for a stroll in the gardens.  That Warlord Prince who arrived yesterday....he apparently doesn't sleep well at all.  He was perched in one of the trees, chain smoking at three o'clock this morning."

"You spoke with him?"

"Yes."

"And what did he say?" Coricopat asked, leveling the Warlord with a look, waiting for his answer.

"Not much, honestly. Though it's almost more what he didn't say.  He's quite bitter about who knows what.  He did mention that the court was _clean_ when I asked him what he thought," Munkustrap paused, frowning slightly at that memory.

"I recognize the term," Coricopat murmured, motioning for the other to continue.

"I told him it was surprising to use such a term for this court, or I found it such.  At least to sound shocked to find it so.  He told me I'd obviously lived in different places."

The Steward's brows rose at that, "Really now?  Did he say anything else?"

"No.  It was at that point that he made rather a quick retreat from the garden."

"Thank you for telling me this."  He considered and nodded slightly, "Yes, thank you a good deal.  If that's everything?"

Munkustrap rose, "He's not one to sleep the night through from what I gathered.  But, that's all."  He offered the Steward a bow and slipped from the study, leaving Coricopat alone with his thoughts.

o-o-o-o

Having showered, Mistoffelees was attempting to brush down the waves of his hair when Macavity slammed a fist on the door and strolled in without waiting.

Almost instantly Mistoffelees was on his feet and almost in a fighting stance. "Don't you know how to knock properly?" he demanded, tone annoyed and border lining angry.

Macavity shrugged. "Most mornings, sure, but since it's your first here, thought I'd tell you there's some rules. Like you, being on the training ground right around now."

Titling his chin up Mistoffelees narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"

Macavity smirked, disregarding how much deeper Mistoffelees' jewel was than his. "I want to see what you can do."

"I might doubt that," Mistoffelees drawled, already reaching for another shirt to change into.

"Well, we'll see, won't we?" Macavity offered before sweeping back out, trusting that Mistoffelees would follow him shortly enough.

Most of the court was assembled at the training ground and already paired off for sparring by the time Macavity and Mistoffelees arrived.  Munkustrap's brows shot up and he elbowed his partner, causing Jerrie to growl at him before turning his gaze in that direction and letting out a low whistle under his breath.  Training today was certainly going to be interesting.

Mistoffelees trailed behind Macavity by several feet, eyebrows arching as he considered the area and how many people were already there. "You certainly seem like you've managed to train and scare everyone into your schedule."

Macavity laughed. "I'm sure more will show up today."

"And why is that?" Mistoffelees asked, giving him a measured look.

"Well," Macavity gestured to him. "I'm sure there are plenty of people who want to see what you can do."

"I don't doubt it," Mistoffelees said, ducking his head to distract himself from how much they wouldn't want to know what he was capable of.

Jerrie glanced at Munkustrap, "You really think Macavity means to give it a go with him?"

The Sapphire Warlord nodded very slightly, "I have absolutely no doubt of it."

Strolling over, Macavity tossed him one of the training sticks. "I'm sure you know how to use this?" he asked, as if hoping Mistoffelees would so no.

Instead the shorter caught it easily and nodded. "Of course," he said, eyes narrowing slightly and squaring his shoulders under the brown leather he was wearing over his shirt.

As they squared off, Sonya approached, pausing. "She is not going to like this," he sighed, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Coricopat appeared at his side, gaze locked on Macavity and Mistoffelees as it had been since he'd spotted them on his way out to the training grounds, "I'm pretty sure he knows it too.  What are the chances of her not coming down today?"

"Low," Sonya replied. "I think she was talking about working tension off... it's going to be so much worse now."

Sighing, the Steward shook his head, "Wonderful.  This is just wonderful.  Maybe they'll be done before she get's--"

"Maybe who will be?"  Griddlebone's voice came from behind his right shoulder and he winced before turning to face her.  She stopped next to them and tensed.

Sonya sighed. "Your Master of the Guard appears to think the best way to know someone in by hitting them. Again," he said, just as the sparring match commenced, Macavity darting forward only to have Mistoffelees spring back and around. They both moved quickly, and spent the first several moments dancing around each other and testing how quickly the other moved.

"Which part of not showing our hand is this?"  she asked, frowning as she watched the two of them spar.

"It's not so much a part as a gross misinterpretation of the text per Macavity's reading," Coricopat murmured, his gaze following Mistoffelees through each fluid motion.

"Which he tends to do," Sonya pointed out. "At least it's physical, nothing to do with their actual jewels. Besides, you know they're both Warlord Princes. It might be better to get the pissing match out of the way," he said and winced as Mistoffelees landed a solid blow on Macavity's stomach only to be knocked upside the head.

When Mistoffelees staggered back, Macavity pressed forward, only to trip when Mistoffelees threw himself backwards and kick Macavity in the chest to send him staggering the other way before flipping back to his feet.

Sonya blinked, unsure what to make of that. "At least, I think it's a pissing match. Mistoffelees seems to be winning it."

Griddlebone's gaze darted between the two combatants as Coricopat shook his head, "Macavity seems to have forgotten his own points, what with having no idea about how old Mistoffelees is.  Who knows how much training, or of what sort he's had.  As you said, they're both Warlord Princes, so it's best to let them fight it out here, but really I had hoped Macavity might have gained a shred of caution in this situation."

"I'm not sure I ever expected to see him losing a pissing match of his own creation," Sonya murmured, shaking his head as Macavity swung a leg under Mistoffelees, making him drop again, only to be thrown over the smaller's back, landing hard on the ground and ending with one of the sticks--he could no longer figure out who had started with which one but he thought this might have been his--pressed against his throat.

Both of them were dusty, and probably a fair amount of bruises, though Macavity was fairly certain he was going to walk out with more pain.

Griddlebone was still frowning at her Master of the Guard, "This is one that I'm not all that surprised.  What is he thinking?"

"That is a question for the ages," Coricopat responded, gaze focused entirely on Mistoffelees.

Breathing heavily, Mistoffelees stepped back, reaching a hand down to help Macavity to his feet. "Satisfied?" he asked and Macavity laughed, though it hurt his chest to do so.

"In this matter? Certainly," he said, wincing as he moved, Mistoffelees gathering up the other stick as well to put them both away.

Griddlebone paused for a minute, her expression still stormy, before making her way to Macavity's side hissing once she'd reached him, "What were you doing?"

"At the moment?" he said, still holding his ribs. "Working on breathing. Did you want something?"

Mistoffelees glanced back at the group that had gathered, brushing his hair back and looking impassive, which was impressive considering the bruise already appearing on one cheek.

Muttering something under her breath about talking to him later, she turned away to see about the others present and get someone to actually work on training.  Coricopat paused as he passed Mistoffelees, "Well fought, sir."

"Why do you keep calling me sir?" Mistoffelees returned, tilting his head back to look at Coricopat's eyes.

He shrugged a shoulder, "A force of habit, I suppose."

"You shouldn't," Mistoffelees said, trying to stay focused but his eyes skittering away from Coricopat's gaze. "I mean, I'd rather you not."

"If you'd rather I not, then I shall do my best not to," Coricopat agreed, inclining his head slightly.

"Thank you," Mistoffelees said, pushing a strand of hair back. "Do you spar often?"

The Steward shook his head, "No.  Not often."

"Then are you going to attempt to test me as well?" Mistoffelees asked, pulling at his shirt where it was clinging to his chest. "Because frankly, I'd much prefer dancing to this," he said and started to turn away.

"You dance then?"  Coricopat mentally cursed the fact that he sounded surprised.

Mistoffelees turned and glanced back at him. "Do you?" he asked, noticing Sonya watching them rather than Griddlebone and Macavity.

"It's been quite some time since I've had the opportunity, but I do dance--though how well is the question I suppose," his gaze drifted away briefly, catching Sonya's look and passing over him to check on Macavity and Griddlebone.

Mistoffelees smiled, looking almost wistful for a second. "I'm sure you could dance quite well," he said, glancing the other over before turning and this time starting to walk away, desperately wanting a second shower already.

Watching the other go for a long moment, Coricopat finally shook his head to clear it and turned away.  He passed by Macavity with a quiet, "If I could see you in my study once you're less dusty?" and paused by Sonya on his way inside, "I have some new information I think we ought to consider, if you're available?"

"Certainly," he rumbled, watching Griddlebone stalk over to Jemima, who looked vaguely amused, and nodded her agreement for a sparring match.

Macavity rolled his shoulders and laughed. "Sure, let's talk."

The Steward nodded once, his gaze sweeping the training field before he turned away and retreated inside.  Opening the door to his study, he stepped inside and took up his position against his desk as per usual.

Sonya followed and a short while later Macavity entered as well, having washed his face and changed shirts quickly. "Well, that was unexpected," Macavity said but he was grinning non-the-less.

"Really?  It was unexpected?"  Coricopat just shook his head at the other man. "You can't really be that surprised, can you?"

"Well, a little," Macavity shrugged. "On the other hand that boots out the excuse any of the women have been giving me about the pointlessness of learning to fight considering size difference. Even Jems has half a head on this guy."

"Always seeing the bright side aren't you?"  Sighing, Coricopat glanced from one to the other focusing back on Macavity, "Did that match serve any purpose beyond irritating our Queen and getting your ass handed to you?"

"I wanted to test him," Macavity replied. "Which, worked out well enough if you think about it. I wanted to know if he was capable of more than just magic and he more than proved that."

"Fantastic.  You've certainly proved that much.  Did you learn anything else?" Coricopat asked.

"Not as much as I hoped other than yeah, he's a lot more trained than I expected," Macavity said.

Coricopat picked up a paperweight from his desk, considering it absently as he spoke again, "Munkustrap was waiting for me when I came down here this morning.  He said he'd encountered our new arrival in the garden before dawn."

"And what did he learn from that?" Macavity asked.

"Besides the fact that our guest is awake before dawn," Sonya said, watching Coricopat closely.

"He said that Mistoffelees remarked on how clean the court is. Again. He also said our newest arrival was chain smoking.  I prefer a glass of wine to take the edge off, but some use smoke to do the same," the brunet responded, turning the paperweight over in his hands.

Macavity snorted, remembering the first time he'd attempted to smoke in front of the Steward, soon finding the cigarette yanked away from him and stuffed out. "That will go beautifully."

"Why is he so focused on it being clean?" Sonya asked. "And why was he chain smoking before dawn anyway? Was there anything else?"

"Munkustrap said he was surprised by the reference to 'clean' as well, and Mistoffelees simply told him that they had obviously grown up in very different places."  Coricopat considered what else had passed in the earlier conversation, "From the sounds of it, and based on some of the things Munkustrap said, this early morning escape from something doesn't appear to be an irregularity with our new Warlord Prince."

"So stake out his room in the early morning?" Macavity offered.

"Oh that sounds like it would go well," the Steward responded, shaking his head.  "Though it might be worth a try."

"So let's see, we have a chain smoking, well trained, black jeweled Warlord Prince on our hands," Sonya said. "Yeah, you might see about seeing how verbal he is in the morning."

"Who likes dancing and would rather not be addressed as 'sir'," Coricopat added quietly to the list.

Sonya's brows rose and Macavity waved a hand around in a circle in front of his face. "So the question is should you stay up all night or try to wake up as early as him?"

"We've no idea what time he'll wake," the Steward pointed out.  "Though, why am I the one elected to do this?"

"Because you're tactful and Sonya sleeps with Griddlebone?" Macavity offered.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes, "Alright, both valid points.  I'll see if I can speak to him tonight."

"Just drink lots of coffee," Macavity smirked.

"Thank you so much for that helpful contribution, Macavity," Coricopat rolled his eyes, setting the paperweight back down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so some comments about Jewel ranks: In the books of course the Dark Court is well, pretty freaking dark. However, such a concentration of dark jewels is pretty rare at that time and VS wants to be really careful about not making too dark a court based off a different group of people. However, one thing the book stressed was how certain bloodlines tended to lead to darker courts, and a hundred some years after the events of the trilogy those dark bloodlines have been around in this world for a while, leading possibly to some darker courts. Also, Griddlebone as Queen had to be sufficiently dark to at least have some chance of standing up to the Black as a queen, and a dark queen would attract a vaguely darker court. (Though her poor consort is on that dividing line and dealing with some insecurities there). 
> 
> Why Mistoffelees has the Black: Partly because he's so associated with black and white it would be impossible for our minds to fathom any other color for him, and when VS gives him magic it's going to be powerful magic. Also, for the sake of tension within the plot, having such a strong male character throws a lot of things off balance. But why he was born in Terreille before the main events of the trilogy, when many of the dark bloodlines had all but been wiped out: Saetan SaDiablo manifested extremely powerful (The first male to gain a Black Jewel) and he was born to basically a gutter whore. So at the very least, dark power can manifest randomly outside of a bloodline. 
> 
> Okay, and basically VS just wanted to write a broken Mistofffelees again. Carry on.


	2. Was that Fear, Or Jealously?

This time when Mistoffelees jolted awake he couldn't keep the scream back, and only hoped he'd remember the aural shields before falling asleep. Shaking his head, he rolled onto his stomach and breathed before pushing himself up, barely bothering to look into the mirror, aware of the circles under his eyes he'd have to disguise in the morning and the bruise left over from Macavity's stick.

Dressing in haste, he rested a hand on the door before pushing through, wondering if the tree a second night would be a sufficient place to wait for the sunrise.

Coricopat had been waiting down the hall and when the door opened he came around the corner, nearly running into the other man and startling.  He hadn't fully expected to be quite that close, "Oh, Mistoffelees, I didn't think anyone else was up."

Mistoffelees blinked in shock of him, instantly changing his posture to on guard. "What?"

The Steward held his hands up at that, "Beg pardon, I was on my way downstairs, and I didn't realize anyone else was in the corridors at this hour."

"You don't seem the type," Mistoffelees replied, not ready to be interacting with anyone after the nightmares.

"Type?"  He shook his head, taking a step back to allow the other to pass him should he wish it.

"To be awake either so early or late," Mistoffelees replied, taking a breath and trying to visibly calm down.

"I've always been an early riser, though admittedly this is a bit early even for me." He was grateful that he had remembered to change when he had retired to his room the night before to lend some credence to the idea that he had recently risen for the day, "Though there's something about the peace of this hour that has merit."

Blinking at him again, Mistoffelees snorted. "Peace. Yes, of course."

"From a Steward's perspective that is.  No one pounding on my door while I'm trying to work and the like," he amended.

"Of course," Mistoffelees murmured, throat still feeling raw from the scream and one hand unconsciously reaching up to rub at his cheek.

Coricopat's eyes followed the movement, "Have you put anything on that bruise?"

"What?" he asked and shook his head when he registered what Coricopat was talking about. "No. It'll heal."

"That wasn't quite what I asked, but very well.  May I ask what you're doing out in the corridors at this hour?"

"Am I not supposed to be?" Mistoffelees asked, something like fear actually entering the corners of his eyes.

Coricopat blinked at him for a long moment, "I never said that, I was merely curious as I don't encounter many people out at this hour.  You've every right to come and go as you please of course."

"Oh," Mistoffelees took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, thank you."

"Are you alright?" he asked after considering the other.

"Certainly," Mistoffelees replied. "Are you not alright for being up at three am?"

"It's just...while I was on my way down the other hall I thought, I thought I heard a scream."

Mistoffelees' eyes widened. "What?" he asked, voice a little too fast before he could get it under control.

"I thought I heard a scream.  I...I may have been mistaken," he conceded, though he was well aware he hadn't been.

Mistoffelees took a deep breath, brushing his hair back small jewel chip in his earring catching the light before his hair settled right back where it had been. "Well, if that's all," he said, more jittery by the moment and desperate for air. "I... I want to go to the gardens, excuse me."

Coricopat inclined his head and stepped aside, "Of course.  I hope the day improves for you."

Mistoffelees gave him another look before taking off down the corridor, already pulling out a cigarette but he didn't light it until he was outside.

Watching him go, Coricopat slipped downstairs and entered the kitchen.  He considered what was laid out and what he could find in the larder.  Locating a small fare, he left through the back door and made his way toward the gardens, quietly seeking the other man out.

Disliking to wait for morning in the same space twice in a row, Mistoffelees found himself in the same tree again, unsure where else he might go.

Pausing at the base of the tree, Coricopat looked up, "I brought you something to eat if you would like."

Mistoffelees' eyes darted back down to him. "Wait? You..."

"I...?" he arched an eyebrow and held up the small basket he'd used to carry the food out.

"Food?" Mistoffelees frowned down at him, cigarette dangling in one hand.

"Yes?  I mean, I figured you were up and it's a few hours yet to breakfast. I mean it's not much, some bread, a little cheese and a bit of fruit."

Blinking down at him again, Mistoffelees considered. "And where were you planning on eating this?"

"Well, I'd considered either my study, or there's rather a nice little spot right here in the garden that's rather comfortable as well," the Steward answered.

"So this is a shared meal?" Mistoffelees asked, sliding down from the tree in one smooth motion.

"Or I can just leave it for you if you would prefer.  The only requirement then is that you see that the basket returns to the kitchen before the cook notices its absence."

"I'd rather leave you in charge of the basket," Mistoffelees shrugged. "So where is that spot in the garden?"

Coricopat offered him a bit of a smile, "Just over here."  He led the way along one of the paths, stepping under an arbor into a spot encircled by dozens of flowers--few of which were night-blooming--with three curved benches around the edge.

Mistoffelees paused, looking over the flowers, fingers brushing one of them before he sat, considering Coricopat and than the food with a level gaze.

Sitting down, with the basket between them, Coricopat lifted the cloth off the top of the basket, motioning to it as he plucked a piece of fruit from it, "Help yourself."

Looking for a moment like he couldn't decide whether there was something lurking in the offer or not, Mistoffelees pulled the basket a bit closer, looking inside it and smiling faintly before he retreated with his preferred food.

Coricopat's lips quirked upward before he took a bite of the fruit, his gaze moving to the other side of the alcove. Mistoffelees ate quietly, extremely tidy about the endeavor.

Allowing the silence to lengthen for a time, the taller man finally spoke, "How was your first full day here?"

"You mean the one where your Master of the Guard took it in his head to be a fool?" Mistoffelees asked. "Perfectly fine."

"Yes, that would be the one," Coricopat chuckled.  "It does him good to occasionally remember that there are those who can take him in the training field."

"I'll be gladder of performing that service when the bruises have faded," Mistoffelees replied, tone easy considering the subject.

Glancing at him, the other nodded slightly, "Do you have any plans for today at all?"

"It's still early to be thinking of plans," he said, shaking his head slightly. "Everyone seems to be keeping a distance, your Macavity being the main exception."

"Well, you're both a new addition to the court and rather a powerful one.  I would say most of them don't know quite how to act around you yet."

"Yes, of course," he shrugged. "It does seem to leave a relatively large amount of time free though. I don't have that many things to settle in."

"If you're ever at a loss, my study's easy enough to find, and we also have a library, that I've done my best to expand," Coricopat offered.

"A library?" Mistoffelees asked, eyebrows tilting up.

"It's not exceptionally much of one, but yes a library."

Mistoffelees smiled, expression authentic for the first time all night. "Well, if it has books I'm sure it'll live up to expectations."

Coricopat laughed lightly, "I can certainly promise it has books.  And if what you're looking for isn't there, I may have it in my study."

Mistoffelees smiled faintly at him, turning the band he wore on his left hand around a few times. "Thank you."

Gaze flickering briefly to the band and then back up, the Steward offered a gentle smile, "Of course."

Fingers twitching for another cigarette Mistoffelees considered the moon before folding his hands and resting his chin on them. "So what do you really want?"

Coricopat blinked at him for a long moment, "What?"

"You either stayed up very late or woke up very early in an attempt to catch me out," Mistoffelees pointed out. "And then you show up with food and libraries. So you must want something, even if only to ask me questions when you hope my defenses are down. So what do you want?"

"Well, as I said we really don't know much about you," he answered honestly.  "I also happen to offer at least the library to most new arrivals, they just don't usually show interest in it.  But, you can see why I might want to talk to you at an hour when your defenses might be down just slightly more, can't you?"

"You'll excuse me if it doesn't put you in a flattering light however," Mistoffelees replied. "So what did that warlord tell you?"

Coricopat's lips quirked upward slightly, "I'm the Steward, it's not necessary for me to be in a flattering light.  As to what he told me, it was mostly that the two of you had spoken at three in the morning and that you didn't seem one to sleep the night through.  In other words?  Nothing I probably wouldn't have sorted out myself eventually."

"Eventually," Mistoffelees agreed, leaning back and turning the band again, not thinking of it as a threat, but a nervous habit, which he never would have done later in the day.

"But it does make me curious as to why you're up so early two days running," he admitted, gaze drifting to the ring yet again, though he focused there for a bit longer.

Mistoffelees frowned at his gaze and realized what he was doing, dropping his hands instantly. "I'm always up this early."

Coricopat turned his gaze away and arched a brow at the other, "That's an effective way to answer the letter of a question without answering the intent."

Mistoffelees snorted, meeting his eyes. "Then what was the intent?"

"You told me you're always up this early, but you never did actually answer 'why'."

"Actually, I think you already have that answer," Mistoffelees replied, mentally noting to always make sure an aural shield was up before he went to bed. No one ever needed to hear him scream.

"Frequent nightmares," the other murmured.

Mistoffelees' mouth thinned. "Anything else?" he asked, tone more closed off than it had been.

Coricopat sighed softly, shaking his head, "No. I believe that's the only real question I had."

Looking away, Mistoffelees realized he had no reason to leave but couldn't think of a thing to say that wouldn't show too much of his hand or express his anger.

Considering the other man for a moment longer, Coricopat rose, picking up the empty basket, "I should make sure this is returned before I have to hear from the cooks about thieves."

"Try not to let them get their knives into you," Mistoffelees deadpanned back, actually joking. The Steward offered him a wry smile before slipping away quietly.

For a long moment, Mistoffelees looked after him before ducking his head and turning his attention to the next cigarette, trying to focus on the taste of ash and remembered cheese rather than anything he dreamed about.

o-o-o-o

Later that day, Griddlebone made her way through the halls.  Her dark hair was pinned up and away from her face and she wore a loose, airy shirt with a full skirt that granted her relative freedom of motion.  She paused as she opened the door to the library, surprised to find someone other than Coricopat there.

Glancing up from where he'd managed to curl himself into a tight ball in one of the chairs, suit jacket slung over the back of the shirt, Mistoffelees blinked before carefully marking his page in the book and trying to memorize it too. Martin had the habit of yanking books out of his hands enough he didn't trust reading in the same room as people anymore.

The Queen offered him a smile as she entered and made her way over to one of the bookshelves, "Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you.  I didn't expect anyone to be in here."

"I don't have to be in here," he said, rising in one fluid motion.

"Oh, don't leave on my account.  You were here first," she waved a hand in the direction of his chair.

He hesitated but sat on the edge of the chair instead of where he'd been wedged, watching her closely. She returned the gaze for a moment before she considered the other seats in the room and settled down a distance from him, leaving him a clear path to the door.  Opening her book, Griddlebone glanced over it with a bit of a smile, "Can I say thank you for handing Macavity his ass yesterday?"

He paused, arching a brow up. "I suppose if you feel the need," he managed, having used the same cosmetics to make the bruise appear less vivid against his face as he used to cover the circles under his eyes.

Her dark eyes skirted over his features as she nodded, "He's a fantastic Master of the Guard, don't get me wrong, but sometimes it's good to see someone take him down a peg.  Though, he's regained that peg again by now."

Mistoffelees snorted. "Well, if he did, I'm sure he'll lose it again someday."

Griddlebone laughed, "It's Macavity.  He's quick to recover."

"Too bad," Mistoffelees remarked, glancing down at the cover of the leather book he held, trying not to tap his fingers against the cover.

"Oh I don't really think so.  I mean there are days, but it's good to have someone there who I can trust to take the risks that need to be taken," she curled her legs up under her skirt.

For a long moment Mistoffelees watched her. "That must be nice," he managed. "Your triad seems quite... protective."

Her lips curled upward into an almost exasperated smile, though there was plenty of affection in the expression, "As they are fond of reminding me, the first rule of protocol is to honor, cherish, and protect.  And they do it very well."

"They're good protocols," Mistoffelees said softly and managed not to pull his legs up to his chest.

"They are," Griddlebone agreed quietly.  "And they work well too.  Exasperating as it might be some days, I know I can trust my triad to question my decisions and make me think them through when they have concerns."

"Do I want to know how much questioning they had lately?" Mistoffelees asked, still sitting perfectly composed.

Shrugging her right shoulder, Griddlebone shook her head, "No more than I expected."

"Then why didn't you take what I'm sure their advice was?" he asked, trying to ignore something that felt like an ache underneath his chest.

"Because, although they made very good points, and were at times incredibly persuasive, I'd received advice regarding this situation prior to you arriving on the scene," she answered.  "And it's not advice I would dismiss lightly.  In addition to that, you're in need of a court and I see no reason to deny you the chance to find out if this is the court you wish to remain in."

Pausing, Mistoffelees tilted his chin. "Who's advice?"

Griddlebone paused before answering, "Jemima's."

“Oh," he said, trying to place that with the smiling woman he'd seen the other day. "And you trust her more... never mind. That's an inappropriate question."

"Not," she considered her answer carefully, "Not more persay, but there are times to act in relation to the consequences that you can't know but may suspect, and times to act on what you do know.  I chose the second option in this case."

He tilted his head, trying to ignore what felt like an itch under his chest bone. "You're a brave woman then."

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that.  You're powerful, Mistoffelees.  More powerful than any man I've ever met.  And a Warlord Prince as well.  Is that a possible danger to this court?  Perhaps.  Did it factor into my considerations for whether or not to invite you into this court?  Of course.  Is it the only reason I asked you here?  Certainly not.  And is it something I'm still uncertain about?  I would be foolish not to be, but I also believe that that uncertainty was outweighed by what I've already said.  You needed a court, and I hope to be able to provide you one to belong in."

Folding his hands over the book, Mistoffelees considered her a long moment and considered if he could just leave, and how dead Martin would attempt to kill him. Darker jewels or not, he still was not ever sure he wanted to have to fight the other, unsure who might win. "Thank you," he said finally, softly.

She offered him a soft smile in response, "You're welcome."  She paused at that, "Oh, that reminds me.  The Steward tends to weird people out a bit sometimes.  He's got certain verbal ticks and things that don't always line up with their expectations."

Mistoffelees blinked once, fairly certain anything that bothered him about the Steward had nothing to do with verbal ticks. "Such as?"

"He never says 'you're welcome'.  As in, I think I've heard that phrase from him once.  That's mostly what it is.  He also has a tendency to watch and learn rather than speak, which has an unnerving effect some days, though that pattern's less regular," Griddlebone listed, considering if there was anything else.

"And does he often stalk outside people's bedrooms at three in the morning and offer them cheese?" Mistoffelees asked and realized exactly how odd that sounded once he'd said it.

She blinked at him, "Has he done that to you?"

"Um," Mistoffelees paused. "That's a little specific for not happening, isn't it? But yes."

"No, I understand that," she shook her head, "it just didn't sound like--no, that's not true.  Of the three of them, he would be the one who would end up in that position.  So the answer to your question is no, he doesn't often do that."

"Should I feel complimented?" Mistoffelees asked, testing the air carefully.

"He offered you food?" she confirmed.

"Cheese, bread, and fruit," Mistoffelees nodded. "Which, all things considered, was quite a fair amount."

"Then, you could probably feel complimented.  Or at the very least apologized to for him staking out your bedroom door."

Mistoffelees' eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm not entirely sure even cheese is enough to make up for that."

She smiled thinly at that, "No.  It very certainly isn't."

The door to the library opened again, Coricopat entering, speaking over his shoulder to the man behind him, but breaking off mid-sentence when he saw Griddlebone and Mistoffelees both there.  "And perhaps my study would be more conducive to any sort of conversation."

Griddlebone was on her feet before he could even attempt a retreat, "Oh no you don't."

Sonya peered over his shoulder and truly considered a faster retreat, as he was not fully in the room yet. For his part, Mistoffelees decided curling back in the chair and being as small as possible while still watching was his best plan.

"Sonya, why don't both you and Coricopat join us?"  Griddlebone said, smile and tone calm, though there was a slight hint that it would have been better to retreat faster.

"Griddlebone, I can explain--" Coricopat started.

"I'm wondering how you can explain stalking the door of our newest arrival rather than actually talking to him in daylight.  Do you know on how many levels that is an invasion of privacy and beyond creepy?"

"It wasn't creepy," Mistoffelees murmured softly, thinking that there were radically different interpretations of such a thing. An invasion of privacy and a kink in his plans, yes, but it barely approached creepy let alone passed beyond it.

Sonya carefully stepped into the library and sat in another one of the chairs, considering Mistoffelees.

Griddlebone glanced in Mistoffelees' direction, "I'm going to take some creative license in my descriptions."  She turned back to her Steward, "And _you_.  I know you, so I'm going to take a guess at how this happened.  Correct me if I get it wrong.  You probably waited around the corner until you heard his door open and then made up some excuse regarding work, yes?" 

He hesitated and she arched an eyebrow at him until he finally nodded, "Yes..."

"Coricopat!  What part of 'make him feel welcome' translated as 'stalk him outside his bedroom so you can corner him and interrogate him'?  Macavity's not the only one with gross misinterpretations of the text!"

Folding his hands carefully in his lap, Sonya glanced at Mistoffelees, who was blinking oddly at his queen.

"Griddlebone, I was just trying to--"  Coricopat broke off.

"You gave him food, Cori.  That implies you were apologizing, or offering a peace offering or something.  Which means you know you shouldn't have been doing that to begin with.  Why would you even think this was a good plan?"

"Well, it..."

The Queen frowned, turning suddenly to her Consort, "Did you know about this?"

Sonya blinked once. "There was an implication," he responded, trying to sound as neutral as possible. "But I hardly understood the full intent."

Coricopat frowned at him, "Oh no.  You were fully aware of what was going to happen.  Weren't you the one to suggest seeing how verbal he was in the morning?"

Griddlebone's eyes narrowed, "You did what?"

"No," Sonya replied, just as calmly. "That was Macavity."

The Steward opened his mouth to protest, but Griddlebone cut him off, "It's irrelevant.  What matters is _someone_ proposed it.  _You_ ," she pointed at Coricopat, "did it.  And you," here she turned on Sonya, "Didn't protest the idea."

"How was I supposed to protest it?" Sonya asked. "He would have done it anyway."

She scowled at him, "You also didn't think to mention it."

"That's because he was in on it, no matter what he says,” Coricopat muttered, sounding almost sulky.

"Coricopat, do shut up.  At this point I'm going to haul Macavity in here, and I'll bet you his story will tell me that the two of you did it yourselves," Griddlebone responded testily.

"Most likely," Sonya agreed. "However, your steward was the one who did anything."

"It's not--" Mistoffelees finally cut in. "It wasn't that important. I should not have mentioned it."

Griddlebone looked at him, "It kind of is important though."  She looked back at Coricopat, "It's common courtesy to talk to someone during the daylight hours.  That's all I'm saying."

"I'll take that under advisement," Coricopat replied.

"Good.  I swear, we need a dictionary to help you all understand what I mean sometimes."  She had calmed down a bit and offered an exasperated, yet fond, shake of her head.

Mistoffelees decided not to mention the number of nighttime conversations he'd experienced. "It's really not," he managed again. "It was no unacceptable, just surprising."

The Queen shrugged very slightly, "If you say so.  I'd still rather my Steward not skulk around the halls in the middle of the night."  She glanced from Coricopat to Sonya, "Why were you two coming in here in the first place?"

Coricopat gestured to the shelves, "Books.  There, well there are more books here that I wanted."

"There's always a use for books," Sonya agreed.

She rolled her eyes at them, but smiled and shook her head, "Well there are rather a lot of them in here.  They will show up back here again where I can find them if I want them, right?"

"If they're not here, they're in my study, you know that," Coricopat answered.

Glancing down at the book he'd been reading Mistoffelees rose to put it back.

Griddlebone turned at that, "What...?"

"What?" he repeated, glancing back at her.

"You don't have to put that back.  You're welcome to leave it out, take it with you whichever."  She considered what she'd said, "Or put it back if you'd prefer."

He shrugged. "Wasn't that interesting," he managed before heading for the door.

The Queen watched him go, frowning very slightly in confusion.

Sonya blinked after him before turning back to his queen. "Welcoming or not, there is something very off about him."

She paused, but nodded, "There is, yes.  All we can do is hope to offer him a safe home, I suppose?"

"You suppose?" Sonya repeated, not sure he was feeling confident with that.

Griddlebone turned to look at him, "It's the best I know for us to do.  If there's more I'm more than willing to hear it, but I don't know what else there is."

"You just didn't sound much confident of that was all," Sonya rolled one of his shoulders.

"I don't like not being able to do more," she answered quietly, wrapping an arm around herself.

He paused, glancing at Coricopat and took a breath. "Then we figure it out, as we always do."

"And you won't go prying?" she turned her gaze on her Steward.

"No more than can obtain through correspondence and speaking with him during daylight hours," he promised.

o-o-o-o

Rumpleteazer carefully entered her teacher's workshop, pausing when she saw the other woman.  Brushing her red hair back away from her face, Teazer stepped further inside, "Jemima?"

"Yes, Teazer?" Jemima asked, bending over the web she'd weaved a while ago, checking to see if she had missed anything, afraid she had.

"I..." She hesitated, glancing toward the web the other was pouring over, "I was wondering what you had seen.  To, well, to encourage the Queen to accept the Warlord Prince here."

Jemima let out a long huff of breath. "A great many things, and I'm not sure which of them are good."

Teazer neared, quietly, "He doesn't...he doesn't seem to fit right, yet."

"He might not," Jemima said before really processing and looking at her student. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, it's only been a couple of days, but the court whispers about him.  There's suspicion, and maybe even fear in the whispers."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Jemima narrowed her eyes. "And what do those rumors say?" she asked, voice soft.

"They ask where he came from, why he would seek this court to join, and the sort of damage he might cause to the court.  He's very powerful and they fear that," she answered quietly.

"Everyone fears that," she replied, shrugging. "But is there anything specific? Phrases, complaints?"

"The fact that he uses the term 'clean' has arisen a couple of times," Teazer answered.  "And that he's been in the halls well before dawn two nights running, apparently the Steward waited to meet him in the hall last night."

"Clean?" Jemima asked. "And the steward... I'm actually surprised I haven't heard that from Griddlebone yet."

"She was giving him a dressing down in the library when I passed," the other woman offered. "She had a go at the Consort too, I think. But I'm not certain of that."

Jemima took a deep breath. "He's... he has to be treated carefully. Which part of that is careful?" she demanded.

"The same part that had Macavity haul him onto the training field yesterday?" she offered.

"From Macavity at least I expect that," Jemima replied acidly.

Teazer paused at that, but nodded, "Macavity's tendency to act first is expected.  But they must have had a reason for Coricopat to do that, mustn't they?"

"He'd better have one," Jemima said, tone growing angrier by the second. "Work on your web," she said, pointing. "I have a stupid male that needs a scolding." Blinking at her teacher, the Black Widow trainee nodded and moved over to work on her web, listening as Jemima left.

Storming through the palace, Jemima spotted Coricopat down the corridor and swept toward him, eyes almost sparking. The gray-jeweled Steward saw her coming and seriously considered the merits of a quick retreat, but knew it was far too late for that option, "Jemima,” he greeted neutrally.

"What is wrong with you?" she demanded, flicking his forehead. "Is there a male need to be moronic?"

He startled back at that, "What?"

"Do you have any idea what that man has been through?" she demanded. "Do you even remotely understand how old he is?"

Taking a step backward in retreat, he shook his head, "No, I do believe that bit has been thus far left out."

"Then I'll ask you this," she said. "Do you have any idea what he means when he says things are clean? Because may the Darkness be merciful I have an idea."

"I can take guesses, but no.  The true intent behind his use of that word escapes me," Coricopat admitted.

"It means the room is free from _pain_ ," she snarled. "You wanna guess where someone that powerful is used to feeling pain in every room he walks through?"

The Steward's eyes widened, and he murmured his response, "Terrielle.  He's that old?"

"Of course he's that old. I just wonder if he woke up in a court that was decimated one morning or if his survived at all. The way he moves? I'm thinking it was the former," she said, hitting his forehead again.

He startled back from the touch again, "May the Darkness be merciful."  Shaking his head, he drew an unsteady breath, "I...you're right, it's a male trait to be moronic."

"That's what I'd hoped you would say," she deadpanned back, crossing her arms over her chest. "Learn anything from your late night foray?"

Things that this information have made clearer," he answered.  "He has nightmares, it's why he wakes before dawn."  His gaze moved past her down the empty hall, "And he's afraid when he thinks he may have done something wrong--such as violating a curfew. He was suspicious, and alright it was an appropriate response, of my presence and peace offerings of food and a library."

Jemima let out a long breath. "Try not to scare him off," she said. "This is a very delicate balance."

"I shall do my best not to," Coricopat vowed.

"Good," she said, shaking her head and went stalking back to check on her student's progress, only hoping she wouldn't find Macavity hanging around her workshop like a lost puppy trying to get Teazer's attention. Though calling a Warlord Prince a lost puppy was probably a misdemeanor, it always seemed appropriate when Macavity wanted someone's attention so badly he lost his suave air.

Watching her go, the Steward remained where he was for a long moment before retreating to his study and closing himself in for the day with what texts he had.

o-o-o-o

A few days later, Coricopat picked up the stack of letters that had been delivered and currently rested on his desk.  He sorted them quickly, leaving the ones addressed to the court where they were and gathering the others.  He paused and frowned at the address on one of them.  It was a precise script, and the letter had been sent to Mistoffelees, he turned the missive over, but there was no distinguishing seal.  Shrugging slightly, he rose, slipping out of his office and handing letters to those he encountered. 

He had handed out all but Mistoffelees' communiqué before he found the smaller man, "Mistoffelees?"

The Warlord Prince was sitting in the garden, underneath a fountain on the ground which was why he'd been difficult to find, a book on his lap. "Yes?" he asked.

"The post arrived, you've got a letter here," he held the sealed paper out to the other man.

For a moment Mistoffelees looked confused before he noticed the hand writing and it seemed like a jolt went through him before he calmed down. "Yes, thank you," he said, accepting it.

Coricopat inclined his head slightly, "Of course.  I'll leave you in peace to read it, then.  Good day, Mistoffelees."  He offered the other a fleeting smile before slipping away back toward the palace.

Mistoffelees stared after him, glancing down at the note from Martin. Over the last century they'd nailed down a code to write letters back and forth, and he had to consciously breath when Martin's letter suggested blaming the Steward for the Queen's death.

o-o-o-o

Leaning against the wall, Mistoffelees watched the court sitting the garden below him. A cigarette dangled from one hand and he idly wondered just how much hard liquor he would have to pilfer to get tipsy. He'd tried it a few times after the offering and generally with no luck. There had been one time, before he made the Offering to the Darkness and walked away with something darker than he had ever imagined, he'd gotten drunk. It was by accident and his child's body hadn't handled it well but he could recall the feeling.

He was just incapable of ever recreating it. Drunk on sex or power was different from being actually drunk.

But he wished more and more for the ability as he watched the court, wanting more than anything to escape, even knowing Martin would kill him for leaving the job unfinished. He was feeling enough off his game he thought the other might well succeed, two jewels lighter or not.

That was a depressing thought.

Taking another drag of the cigarette, Mistoffelees tried to focus on anything that wasn't Griddlebone or who didn't have grey eyes. The Queen had entered her moon time, when she could only use basic craft without pain and every male in the court was on edge, including him. Only, it was worse on him and Macavity for being Warlord Princes, and worse on him because now would be the perfect time to walk up and rip her heart out, finishing the job and allowing him to leave again. But too much of him wanted to stalk down there, snarling the other males away and protecting her with his life.

He'd spent the last century laughing at any other male who tried to explain that Warlord Prince's protected and severed their Queens. No Queen had made him want to protect, let alone serve.

"It might be considered suspicious," a voice from behind him remarked and he tilted his head slowly back, controlling his movements though he once would have jumped out of his skin. "You lurking here in the shadows, alone, watching," Jemima continued, giving him an odd smile.

 He couldn't read it and was sure his own smile was just as bad. "Is it?" he practically purred.

The black widow tilted her head and Mistoffelees was reminded why she worried him the most. Jemima appeared too sweet at first look to be a black widow but her webs are the most and the furthest. Plus, the red jewel sitting on the middle of her chest warned anyone foolish enough to underestimate her.

Of all the people who might understand why he was there, she scared him.

"You could join us you know," she said, arching a brow and he shrugged.

"Not used to that many people," he said, looking down and it was in fact entirely true. But moreso, he wasn't used to feeling so much about that many people as he watched Macavity pacing behind Griddlebone, teeth on edge and Sonya looking like he wanted to snap at the Warlord Prince to just sit down.

Her smile was a little too knowing he wondered if he could burn her power out fast enough to make her stop knowing things she shouldn't. "Plus, Coricopat's down there."

Choking on his smoke, Mistoffelees' head whipped around to stare at her.

"Ah," she said, looking mischievous. "So you do have feelings and reactions."

"Doesn't everyone?" he rasped, trying to get his footing back.

"You were starting to make me wonder," she shrugged and drifted past him to the garden stairs, leaving him staring after her.

Griddlebone finally rose, when Macavity's pacing grew to be too much of an irritation.  Her Steward started to rise as well, but she shot him a sharp look which kept him in place.  His gaze hadn't stopped moving since they'd come out to the gardens and she had been nearly as aware of that as of the Warlord Prince stalking around behind her.  Cutting Coricopat off before he could ask, Griddlebone spoke, "I'm going to the library.  It means I have projectiles to toss at you all if you hover too much more."

"But," Sonya protested quietly and snapped his mouth shut.

"What is it with women and throwing books around?" Macavity growled.

"But nothing," Griddlebone pinned her Consort with a look, before turning to her Master of the Guard, "They're light enough to throw, and if I catch you with one of the corners it will hurt without permanent damage, theoretically."  She looked around at her triad again and swept back into the palace, quelling any of the other males in her court who protested her retreat.

Mistoffelees' eyes widened slightly as she approached up the stairs but he didn't move anyway. Griddlebone paused when she saw him, offering him a weary smile, "I suppose you've got a contribution to the 'don't go wandering where we can't see you' chorus?"

"What?" he blinked. "No?"

Her smile turned more relieved, "Oh good.  You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but there's something stifling about it all."

"I," he blinked again, before stuffing out the cigarette and dismissing the stub. "Being protected is stifling?"

Griddlebone nodded, "You have no idea.  So, you're not going to tell me I should be constantly under guard right now?  Or attempt to wait on me hand and foot?"

"I wouldn't know where to start doing such things," he said with a frown.

"Then you're perfect,” she nodded decisively, "I'm retreating to the library, and I really hate doing that by myself usually.  Do you mind joining me?"

Mistoffelees blinked once and slowly nodded. "If you would like me to."

"Well, as I said I like company, but if you'd rather not I'm hardly going to make you," She stepped past him toward the door, glancing back to see if he was joining her.

Hesitating a moment, remembering how much he couldn't decide if he wanted to use her weakness against or how much he wanted to protect her, he followed her silently. Offering him a smile, she led the way to the library, stepping inside and holding the door for him, "Thank you for this."

"For what?" he asked, still confused by the entire thing.

"Not treating me as though I'm made of glass, and being willing to retreat here with me."

"Well, you aren't made of glass," he replied with a shrug. "You're a Queen. A Queen not at full strength but you could never be glass."

"Now if the rest of the Court would realize that," she huffed, settling on one of the chairs.

"I think it's something engrained at an early age," Mistoffelees replied with a small shrug.

"It doesn't make it less irritating." She tilted her head on one side, considering him, "How have you been settling in?"

"I'm not sure they can help it, you should give them a break," Mistoffelees said with a tiny smile, ignoring the question before realizing it would look suspicious if he did. "Well enough. You have a lovely court after all."

"I gave them almost a full day and a half of not losing my temper at them."  Griddlebone offered him  a bit of a smile, "I'm glad you're starting to settle.  Is there anything I can do to help make it any easier?"

"Not that I could think of," he said, rolling his shoulder, one hand trailing along the spines of books as he walked, seeing if anything caught his attention.

"Nothing?  There's nothing you want?"  She tilted her head again, "Nothing you enjoy at all?"

He glanced back at her. "How do you mean?" he asked, fingers still sprayed against a book spine.

"I mean, an activity or something.  Usually we've seen about a more lavish dinner or something like that as a welcoming reception, but somehow we didn't get that set for you yet.  I'm asking if there's something you would prefer instead."

He hesitated, feeling a little sick at the suggestion of a lavish dinner party. "That's perfectly fine," he said quickly, and looking at the book his hand had stopped on, deciding it was worth pulling out. "You don't have to go through any trouble," he added, polite and elegant until he really thought about it. "Though," he started and stopped.

Griddlebone turned slightly in her seat, "Though?"

"I wouldn't want to put people out," he murmured. "But, does your court ever hold balls or dances?"

Her eyes lit up at that suggestion, "We haven't in a while, but that's brilliant.  Oh that would be a wonderful change."

Once he saw her reaction he twisted his own mouth into a smile. "Really?" he asked.

Griddlebone nodded, smiling brightly, "Yes, really.  I haven’t danced in far too long.  I miss it, we really ought to involve dancing more often in this court."

"That is an initiative I would gladly support," Mistoffelees said, smile blossoming further.

"Perfect!  So we'll see about a dance or a ball or something as sort of a welcoming you here, and then see about more regular dancing as well."

"Thank you," he said softly before settling down in the chair across from her.

They spent the rest of the time in companionable silence, occasionally exchanging remarks about what they were reading and by the time Mistoffelees left for dinner, he was almost feeling relaxed aside from the buzz at the back of his mind about protection.

Griddlebone entered the dining room at Mistoffelees' side and offered him a smile before making her way down the table to take her place next to Sonya.  Coricopat watched her entrance and progression, frowning very slightly as she sat down.

Macavity blinked, before pulling Mistoffelees by the arm and dragging him away. "What was that?" he demanded as Mistoffelees brushed him off and stepped back.

Griddlebone saw the motion and went to rise, but Coricopat shook his head, "Let them sort it out.  Macavity's doing what every man here wants to."

"Then you'd better go be a calmer voice than the Warlord Prince who just dragged Mistoffelees off," the Queen responded, eyes narrowed.

Coricopat rose quickly, following Macavity and Mistoffelees, stopping in a place that left Mistoffelees a clear path out of there rather than cornering him.

"So you're going to explain what the hell that was, right?" Macavity asked.

"What what was?" Mistoffelees asked. "Spending the afternoon with her? It was just that. She wanted to be somewhere quiet."

"So you two closeted yourself off alone for the afternoon?"  The Steward frowned.

"She closeted herself, and invited me along because I wasn't suddenly treating her like a child."

"Do you have any idea--" Macavity started and bit his comment off.

"We hardly treat her like a child," Coricopat protested.  "But you were alone with her all afternoon.  Her only defense all day."

"I'm the strongest defense, aren't I?" Mistoffelees asked, something behind his eyes changing.

"You're also a wildcard at the moment and perhaps not trustworthy," Macavity snorted.

Offering Macavity a look, Coricopat shook his head, "Slightly more blunt than I would have put it, but basically. We don't know what you're capable of at this time."

"On the other hand she trusted me enough to spend the day with her," Mistoffelees said, trying not to snarl. "You might consider giving me the same courtesy."

The Steward pursed his lips and drew a breath, trying to find a way to say anything without making the situation worse, "We're working on that.  But don't expect it to come during her moontime."

"It's times of stress that you have to build trust, isn't it?" Mistoffelees replied, tone turning flippant but the look he send Macavity challenging. When Macavity started growling Mistoffelees narrowed his eyes. "I wouldn't," he warned.

"Not here.  Not now," Coricopat murmured to Macavity.  "It is, but there's a difference between stress and the desire to defend her avidly against anyone untested.  And frankly against some who are."

"I would not deny my Queen a request," Mistoffelees replied, focusing on Coricopat instead of Macavity, only then realizing how much he was starting to think of her as such.

Coricopat blinked slightly at that, "You..."  He paused, considering before finally nodding, "Very well."

"If that's all?" Mistoffelees snapped, and without waiting for an answer breezed past Sonya who had come to check on them.

"So was that fear, or jealousy?" Sonya asked and smiled when Macavity snarled at him.

Coricopat curled his lip at Sonya before re-entering the dining room.  Griddlebone had watched Mistoffelees enter and motioned to an empty seat near her if he wished it. He slid in there, expression perfectly calm.

She offered him a fleeting smile, "Reason number who knows what why I hate this time. You do know it was partly jealousy, yes?"

"I," he hesitated and considered it. "Would find such a matter logical."

"There are other aspects to it as well, I'm sure.  Or they'll say there are.  But part of it's jealousy," Griddlebone took a couple of bites of her dinner before speaking again.  "Would you like input on how the dance should be put together or shall I hand that off to Coricopat entirely?"

"You would hand it to Coricopat?" Mistoffelees asked in some surprise as the other males returned slowly to the table.

"Well, part of it.  I would be giving him my opinions, and suggestions, but no one manages to come close to organizing this Court quite like he does."

Mistoffelees smiled faintly. "I'm sure there's not," he said, glancing over at the Steward.

Griddlebone's lips curled upward as she watched Coricopat settle back in his seat.  He arched an eyebrow in their direction, but turned his attention to another conversation.  "So, although he can be stiff, he's the one who would be able to help the practical side of it all best."

"Well, so long as he's practical," Mistoffelees said, glancing over at Coricopat, turning the band on his finger over a few times.

"He's even personable sometimes, though my guess is you probably haven't seen that yet."

"Not fully," he said, unable to help from smirking slightly in Coricopat's direction, teasing him again.

The Steward blinked in at him, before his eyes narrowed and he turned to his dinner.  Griddlebone's lips quirked upward, "Well, give him a little bit of time to warm up to you.  And then assume it'll take another while for him to fully relax."

"I'll try my hardest to keep that in mind," Mistoffelees smiled.


	3. So Long as You Can Keep Your Foot out of Your Mouth

Mistoffelees knocked on the study door, glancing inside. "Griddlebone said you might want to see me?" he asked, having spent most of the last few days speaking to the Queen and avoiding the males of her court.

Coricopat looked up from the papers he was going over, "What?  Oh, Mistoffelees.  Yes.  She mentioned you might be able to help me a bit with this dance I'm suddenly planning."

Mistoffelees swallowed back his first reaction. "Should I apologize for that?"

"Certainly not.  I welcome it, I admit to being at a bit of a loss."  He gestured to the papers in front of him, "A dinner I can plan, it's a matter of talking to the cooks, and then organizing the seating charts, but a dance...I'm completely out of my depth."

"It's really no harder," Mistoffelees said, sliding in across from him. "Do you have musicians?"

"That's the one thing I do have.  Or at least I have a couple of them."

"And you have space?"

"It will take some reordering of the room, some clearing as well I believe, but yes we have a room that could be made to work..."

"Then you have a dance," Mistoffelees shrugged. "I mean, some buffet style food might be beneficial, and drinks, and possibly decorations, but that's really all you need. Space and music and dancers."

Coricopat offered him a grateful smile, "Thank you for that reassurance.  I'm pretty much certain food, drinks, and decorations are going to be needed.  Do you have recommendations for what you'd like to see or have there?"

"Like, decoration wise?" Mistoffelees said with a slight frown, unsure how to react.

"Well, we could certainly start there, yes.  But for food as well."

Mistoffelees considered, thinking about the palace interior. "Well, colors, right?"

"Colors, yes. We've a wide variety of flowers in any number of colors that we could use for the accents."

"Well," he considered. "What are your feelings on orange accents?"

Coricopat stared at him for a long moment before finally offering a hesitant nod, "We...could probably arrange orange."

Unsure whether he wanted to press the issue, Mistoffelees shrugged. "It hardly matters. Beverages would be more important."

"I'll see what I can do about the arrangements.  As to beverages, do you have any you're particularly fond of? We can certainly obtain them if we don't yet have them."

For a moment he considered and shrugged. "I have few if any preferences," he said, trying not to think about past courts he'd visited, where drugs had been in different cups and the alcohol had never been as effective as hoped. "I think you have everything in hand as it is. Your Queen just sent me to check on you but frankly I have few preferences so long as there is a dance."

Coricopat's lips curled upward slightly, "I like to have some idea for how best to suit the new arrivals, but I think I'll be able to figure things out from here in that case."

Mistoffelees frowned slightly. "Is there something else?" he asked.

"No, that's everything." He answered, candidly, "I usually have an interview like this prior to any welcome dinner, or in this case dance, to see what the person we're putting it on for would like to see, or have there."

"Well," he said, smiling faintly. "Dancing. Otherwise, it's all the same."

"Alright, so long as you're sure..."  He made a brief note on one of his papers regarding orange for the arrangements, though there was a hesitation in the motion of the pen the same as there had been in his voice at the color.

"It doesn't have to be orange," Mistoffelees said with a sardonic smile. "I've just always liked orange flowers. Besides," he said and rose. "It's not so strongly associated with any jewel colors."

"No, orange is...an underused color," Coricopat responded as diplomatically as he could.  "I'll figure out some way to make it work."

Arching a brow at him, Mistoffelees shrugged. "Don't be put out on my account," he murmured.

"No, we have beautiful orange roses in the garden, and as I said they're underused.  The gardener's been at me to use them in something for absolute ages," the Steward responded and Mistoffelees still looked unimpressed.

"Of course she has," Mistoffelees murmured. "If that is all?"

He blinked at the other man, before nodding slightly, "I...yes, I think that's everything."

"Then if you'll excuse me?" Mistoffelees asked, tilting his head.

"Oh, of course.  I'll...I'll see you later, then."

"Presumably," Mistoffelees agreed and turned, heading for the door.

Coricopat watched him go before rising and heading for the gardens to speak with the gardener about what orange flowers they had and how best to incorporate them into arrangements.

o-o-o-o

The day of the dance, Coricopat had cordoned off the ballroom, allowing no one in except those assigned to decorate and to lay out the food and drinks.  He spent the day closeted in there with them directing them hither and yon to make certain everything was perfect, only leaving when he had to get dressed for the evening.

He returned just in time to open the doors to the room to allow the court to enter.  The interior was lit by the wall sconces and the chandelier which hung from the ceiling.  Flower arrangements were placed at equal intervals along the walls, the orange roses he had mentioned to Mistoffelees accompanying orange lilies and deep red blossoms in black vases.  The red and the black were more accent to the orange than the other way around.  Along one wall, the buffet table held a light fare, and across from it the beverages of a wide variety were arrayed on a circular table of their own.

Entering with Griddlebone, Sonya looked around in some surprise, sure that Coricopat would not have planned this himself, tasteful as it was. "You certainly went out of your way," he murmured to the Steward.

Coricopat rolled a shoulder, but nodded, "It was the only input I received from him."

Griddlebone smiled, arm linked with Sonya's, "It looks wonderful, Cori."

"Orange?" Macavity asked Coricopat, raising an eyebrow. "His entire input was orange?"

"That was it.  He said that dancing was what mattered, but orange was the only contribution to anything more than saying that music and space were needed."

"Huh," Macavity said, looking around. "Did you mean to have the red and black accents be his jewels or did that just sorta happen?"

"It was intended as reference to his jewels, yes," the Steward nodded, considering the room with a still critical eye.

"That might be interesting," Macavity remarked. "Out of curiosity, anyone _seen_ his jewel yet? Or at least more than chips and the ring he has?"

Coricopat shook his head in response.  Griddlebone glanced at them, "Not everyone sees the need to display them openly, after all."

"It is curious though," Sonya said, looking around again and deciding he oddly enough liked the arrangement. "To be that powerful and never inclined to show it."

"And it's not like he doesn't like showing off," Macavity huffed before shaking his head and turning his attention toward the buffet style food.

Griddlebone shrugged very slightly, "Well, it is his own concern why he doesn’t wear them more obviously."  Coricopat looked uncertain of that, but simply nodded, excusing himself and making his way over to the drinks table.

Sonya took a breath before shrugging, turning to greet several of the notables from the nearby town who had been invited as the band warmed up for the dances planned to commence soon.

Pouring himself a glass of wine, Coricopat sipped at it as he scanned the room for the guest of honor.  He was interrupted in that pursuit by one of the guests from the town who had been trying to corner him to talk business for weeks, up until that evening he'd been able to dodge the man.  His hope had been that in a party he would be able to continue that pattern, but it appeared that that wasn't to be.

Mistoffelees entered and almost stopped short at the doorway before convincing himself to continue inside to avoid the gossiping witches behind him, who were giggling and whispering excitedly to each other for even being invited.

Sticking to the corners of the room, he made a circle around it, enjoying the orange roses against the dark wood panels but one of his hands hesitated on the black vases, as if unsure how to feel about his jewels being obviously represented as such.

Finally spotting Mistoffelees, Coricopat managed to bow out of his conversation and wove his way along the edges of the room until he reached the Warlord Prince's side, "Good evening, Mistoffelees."

“Good evening," he replied in distraction, hand still on the vase before snapping his attention to Coricopat.

The Steward's gaze moved to the vase, "You don't care for them, do you?"

"What?" he frowned and then realized what Coricopat meant. "No, I mean, yes? They are beautiful it's just," he rolled his shoulders. "It's never been something I am comfortable with."

"I would have used our usual colors, but we didn't have shades of the blue to suit the orange to its best advantage," he explained almost apologetically.

"No," he shook his head. "It's fine. Just unexpected. I suppose I didn't expect the ball to be obviously," he looked around again. "Based for me."

"I don't believe many outside of the Court actually know the full significance of the colors.  Admittedly that's not a large number, but those as do know, are the ones who have seen our methods of greeting newcomers before," Coricopat responded, gaze sweeping the room.

"And is this normal?" Mistoffelees asked, glancing at him.

"Which part?" The Steward asked, turning his attention back to the other man.

"The colors and," he shrugged, eyes scanning the room again. "Everything."

Coricopat nodded, "The dance is a difference, but everything else is pretty much normal.  We'll usually have a larger dinner with guests from the town, and the room and table will be arrayed with colors related either to the new court member or to the court itself."

"And this time there is orange," Mistoffelees murmured.

"Yes, it turns out we have far more orange flowers in the garden than I had taken notice of before," he answered.  "It seemed enough to decorate with, though the red was needed to fill in the arrangements."

Mistoffelees nodded. "It looks striking," he said as the band finally started playing, catching several people's attention.

Coricopat turned his head in the direction of the music, smiling faintly, "That was the intent.  Have you any idea who you'll partner with for your first dance?"

"Partner?" he blinked and shook his head. "No," he managed, for despite suggesting a dance he'd thought nothing of the specifics or logistics of it.

"Well, in that case," he hesitated slightly before continuing, "would you be willing to do me the honor of--"

Macavity swept through suddenly, sweeping Mistoffelees away before he could figure out one way or another what he was going to do with Coricopat's offer. "What are you doing?" he demanded and Macavity smirked.

"It's another challenge, inn't it?"

"Didn't you lose the last one horribly?" Mistoffelees snapped, falling automatically into the steps of the court dance.

Coricopat's lips curled into a silent snarl at Macavity, but he simply watched the other two men as they moved around the floor.  Teazer, at Jemima's side on the other side of the room, watched Macavity step into the dance and her brows rose, her attention locking on him.

Standing beside her, Jemima turned from where she had been critically considering the buffet and stopped. " _What_ is he doing?" she asked, eyes widening.

"It looks like another one of his attempted challenges," Teazer answered, head tilted on one side as she considered the two men's dancing.

"He's challenging--" Jemima started and bit it off, looking at Teazer and deciding she was doing just fine turned her gaze toward Coricopat, who looked distinctly less pleased.

The Steward's gaze was dark and his eyes locked on Macavity for nearly half the dance before the two Warlord Princes came nearer his side of the room again and he stepped over, taking a risk and tapping on Macavity on the shoulder, "May I cut in?"

Before Macavity could fully form a reply, having been focused on the battle of wills between himself and Mistoffelees, the other Warlord Prince swept away, dragging Coricopat back into the dance but taking the lead position out of frustration with Macavity without thinking about it.

Coricopat nearly stumbled in the follow's steps, but quickly recovered and soon found himself moving smoothly through the dance as he gave the lead over to the other man.

For a moment Mistoffelees was so focused on the dance he wasn't paying attention to who he was actually dancing with, but he started to relax slightly now there wasn't another Warlord Prince challenging him and finally looked up to meet Coricopat's eyes. The Steward offered a faint smile once the other looked up, "I've got to admit I'm a bit rusty.  It's been a long while since I've followed in a dance."

"I'm surprised you followed at all," Mistoffelees replied, mellowing and starting to pay more attention to the actual conventions of the dance, curling a bit closer and almost feeling seduction seeping off him without conscious thought.

"I've had a number of partners, so I've both led and followed," Coricopat answered, moving evenly into the dance as it drew them ever closer. The longer they danced the more aware he grew of the smaller man's proximity.

"Partners?" Mistoffelees asked, tilting his head. "For dance or life?"

"Dance, though there have been a couple for life, though none lasting to date," he replied, missing a step but quickly recovering again.

"Is that so?" Mistoffelees murmured, noticing the missed step.

"I wouldn't say it if it wasn't.  Neither lingered and neither are at this court," he managed, through long practice, to keep any bitterness at that thought from his tone.

"Of course," Mistoffelees murmured, noticing the song changed and flowed into the follow position for the slower song.

Coricopat very nearly stumbled at the change, but caught himself and led the dance smoothly and gracefully, though he looked moderately surprised by the fact that the other let him lead at all.

Very careful to keep his eyes on Coricopat and careful not to force the leading issue, Mistoffelees inched closer during the dance. The Steward didn't startle, rather accepting the other's nearness.  He was adept in his leading, but tentative in his reciprocation of the gradual closing of the distance between them.  Reciprocate he did, however, his full attention on the Warlord Prince before him, the sounds around them only just garnering his notice.

“Are you even paying attention to the music?" Mistoffelees murmured at one point.

"Enough to keep tempo and steps," came the muted reply.

Mistoffelees laughed before leaning against Coricopat's shoulder. "Good."

The Steward couldn't help but smile, his touch growing slightly more firm at that, though it remained gentle with space to escape offered, "I try my best."

"You're dancing," he said, more relaxed. "You'd better be trying your best."

"It's rather a requirement in other areas too, but this is certainly an area where I know it takes slightly more work."

As the song ended again Mistoffelees paused, not entirely wanting to step back but leaning back slightly. Coricopat seemed disinclined to let him go as well, but lowered one arm, "I...thank you."

Griddlebone approached the two of them, pausing a few steps away. Considered Coricopat Mistoffelees took another step away, finally glancing over and spotting the Queen. "Hello."

She offered him a bit of a smile, "Those were quite the dances.  Are you up for one more or would you rather sit one out?"

"I'm always up for another dance," he said with a smile.

"Well, would you be willing to lead me through the next one, then?" Griddlebone asked, earning an arched brow from Coricopat.

"Anything for the Queen," Mistoffelees replied and almost sounded sincere.

Her smile brightened and she took his hands as the next dance started.  Coricopat stepped out of their way, retreating to stand next to Sonya. Sonya arched a brow at him. "So, was that in the name of information or were you that caught up in the dance?"

The Steward glanced at him, his gaze moving back to track Griddlebone and Mistoffelees, "I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Really?" Sonya asked, tilting his head.

Coricopat paused for another moment, "I haven't danced in so very long.  And he's been needing to be made welcome here."

"Because that's entirely what that dance was made out of," Sonya arched a brow.

Gaze still following them, he hesitated, "No.  It wasn't. But I don't know how much more I can say it was."

For a moment Sonya watched Griddlebone dancing with the newcomer. "He dances very differently with her. And with Macavity. So the question is how would you dance with someone else compared to that?"

"You weren't around the last time I danced, were you?  It's...never like that, for one."

"Than I'm going to guess it's something unique," Sonya said and looked around. "That being said? I want my queen back so if you'll excuse me."

Coricopat finally grinned a bit at that, "Go right ahead."

"You might consider watching him," Sonya added on his way toward that goal.

Coricopat watched the Consort for a moment before turning his attention back toward Mistoffelees and feeling something unwelcomely like jealousy coil in his stomach as the Warlord Prince took another dance partner.

For the rest of the evening, Mistoffelees very carefully made sure to dance with every female of the First Circle of the court, and most of those of the Second Circle, even accepting a dance from a stammering, blushing Warlord from the Second Circle and anyone else who crossed his path.

As the evening progressed, the Steward's gaze grew darker and darker, but he was able to repress most of the emotion he was feeling, knowing as he did where the other members of the court turned their eyes.  The thing that finally pushed him to admitting to jealousy was when Mistoffelees led a young woman from the town onto the floor.  She was out of Coricopat's jurisdiction, in many ways, and the way she moved with the Warlord Prince made the gray-jeweled prince's lip curl.

Not wanting to insult anyone, Mistoffelees had accepted every dance, though he wasn't quite so sure about the expression in the Priestess' eyes. Attempting to draw his gaze away from them, Coricopat's eyes lit on the resident Black Widow and he quickly turned his attention from her.  Only that did little good as he focused immediately back on the dance.

Having danced with several members of the court, Jemima considered Mistoffelees' current partner and made her way over to Coricopat. "For putting together the gala, you don't seem pleased with its results."

"Hm?" He glanced at her briefly, "No, the gala is going well.  There's enough refreshments, and the number of compliments paid to the decorations indicate that much."

"Then why do you look so bothered?" Jemima asked, tilting her head.

He did his best to clear his features, but didn't quite manage it, "Whatever do you mean?"

Jemima sighed. "What have I told you about being a stubborn male?" she asked, shaking her head slightly.

He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath before opening them again, "What are you suggesting I do then?"

"I don't know, but I'm curious what that poor girl ever did to you," Jemima said, gesturing to the yellow jeweled priestess.

"Not a single thing.  But I don't much care for the way she's handling herself, or the expression she's been wearing during this dance," he admitted, his lips barely moving, and his gaze never wavering from Mistoffelees.

"And how long have you been watching him?" she asked.

"Not long," he didn't think.  It hadn't gotten that late, had it?

Jemima considered him a long minute. "Not long?" she enquired. "How many partners, Coricopat?"

He hesitated, doing a mental tally before he answered, "Fourteen.  Counting this one."

"You're not paying attention at all," Jemima drawled.

"Did you ever notice how often you say that, and how often I ask you to explain?" he muttered irritably.

She shook her head. "No. I meant clearly you're not paying attention to him, knowing each of his partners. Could you name them too do you think?"

"They were all first or second circle until this girl, so yes, if called upon I probably could."

For a long moment the black widow considered him, with a slight frown, as if unsure whether she should push or back down. "You're jealous," she declared finally.

His grey eyes moved to her again, but he didn't deny it, "And what if I am?"

"Then you should ask him for the last dance," she said and shook her head.

The Steward blinked at her for a long moment, he had been expecting to have to defend himself verbally somehow, but had certainly not thought that would be the next thing from her lips.  "I should...I've already danced with him twice."

"Somewhat closer to once and a half," she replied, not quite smirking. "But who's counting?"

His lips finally curved upward very slightly, "You just want to see us dancing again.  I do believe you enjoyed it."

"It was most aesthetically pleasing," she agreed quite happily.

The man finally chuckled, "Well, if it was aesthetic then I can hardly argue against another one then can I?"

"Go," she said, shooing him off with her hands.

Inclining his head to her, he slipped off to intercept Mistoffelees, before anyone else could, as the dance came to an end.

Mistoffelees turned, looking for a second like he might consider leaving the floor and paused when Coricopat approached. "Can I help?" he asked.

"Would you do me the honor of the last dance?" he asked.  "Of course if you'd rather call it a night I won't keep you."  Something almost dangerous leapt into his eyes as he watched the Priestess Mistoffelees had been dancing with sweep off the floor looking perhaps a little more pleased than he liked.

"I could always stand another dance," Mistoffelees said, smiling and still suave.

Coricopat's lips curled into a smile, as he held out a hand, "Your lead or mine to start?"

"This time you can have that honor," Mistoffelees replied, tired though he didn't much show it.

The Steward inclined his head, listening as the musicians started hte song, before sweeping Mistoffelees into the dance.

Thankful not to be leading, Mistoffelees for a moment didn't focus on much of anything before noticing the undercurrent in this dance that hadn't been there for the rest of the night, frowning slightly as he turned his attention fully to Coricopat.

The gray-jeweled Prince arched an eyebrow at the other man, the corners of his lips quirking upward again very slightly.  There was an intensity written into the steps of the dance that was increased with the proximity of the Warlord Prince.

"You weren't dancing like this before," Mistoffelees remarked quietly, flowing through a turn and coming back to the Prince.

"Wasn't I?" he responded, drawing the other a hair closer.  "It's been a night for change."

"Then how are you changing?" Mistoffelees asked, eyes meeting Coricopat's and holding him there.

"I think the gardener believed I'd gone mad when I instructed that every orange flower in the garden be used for the arrangements," Coricopat replied, not quite answering the question as it was asked.

"Then why did you ask for them?" Mistoffelees asked, tilting his head.

"Because you asked for orange."

"You didn't have to do it," Mistoffelees murmured, stomach twisting at the thought of things happening because he'd asked for them.

Coricopat spun him out and drew him back in again before answering, "But I wanted to."

Mistoffelees' brows drew together. "Why?" he asked, wondering where all the air went in the room that he was finding it harder to breath.

"Because I hoped you'd like them," the Prince answered, his voice lowered so it was just audible over the music and his gaze never leaving Mistoffelees' face.

Mistoffelees stared at him for a long moment. "But," he started to say and stopped. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," the words slipped out before he realized they'd even come to mind. Mistoffelees' eyes snapped opened and his mouth opened as he stared in shock for a moment, though he didn't miss the next step.

Coricopat blinked as he realized what he'd said, but kept the dance moving easily, drawing the other even nearer through the twists and passions of the steps.

"What are you intending to do?" Mistoffelees asked, sudden suspicion twisting his chest.

"Dance with you," the Prince answered, remembering what Jemima had said shortly after Mistoffelees' arrival.

"And after that?" Mistoffelees pressed.

“I have no _intentions_ after that."

Mistoffelees' eyes narrowed at the distinction. "Plans, thoughts then?"

"I also have no plans.  I'd like to get to know you.  You're charming, powerful, and yes, handsome.  But you're also entirely your own person with your own choices and decisions," came the answer and Coricopat led him through another turn.

"How trite," Mistoffelees replied, eyes still narrowed and trying to ignore the movements of the dance. "Is that really the only thing in your head?"

"No." Coricopat's expression hardened slightly, "But it's at least part of the honest answer.  The rest?  I've been watching you dance all night, and the way that Priestess looked at you made my blood boil."

The shock of that snapped Mistoffelees' eyes wide again and out of his spiral of anger. "What?" he asked, stupidly surprised.

"I've watched you dance all night.  You're an artist with it.  But with that last woman, girl really," his lip curled ever so slightly, but he cleared his expression.  "She looked at you as though you were something she was claiming.  As though you owed her something and she wanted to collect."

"She could never have claimed me," Mistoffelees replied. "Would you think you'd like to try?"

"No.  A claim implies ownership, I wouldn't want that," Coricopat answered.

"Than what do you want?" Mistoffelees asked, voice tangled up in frustration.

"I told you already.  But if you expect me to answer with anything more physical...a kiss."

"A kiss?" Mistoffelees repeated, incredulous. "Just that?"

Coricopat understood the reason behind the incredulity but he was still had to quash the irritation that rose at how many times he was repeating himself, "Yes. Just a kiss."

"But that," Mistoffelees floundered and took a step back.

The Steward allowed him the retreat, "That?"

"That can't be all?" he said quietly.

"But it is," Coricopat replied softly.

"Why?" Mistoffelees asked, before biting his comment off and shaking his head. "Nevermind. It doesn't matter."

Coricopat hesitated, considering whether or not to answer the question and deciding at last against it, "The question does or you wouldn’t have asked it.  Does my answer?"

"Of course the answer matters," Mistoffelees snapped, sounding almost distracted as he said it.

"Then honestly it is because I don't believe that more than a kiss is something that should be received, or given, or whatever verb you would apply, without more time."

"Time?" Mistoffelees asked, arching a brow and shaking his head.

"Time," Coricopat nodded. "I don't believe in acting without knowing more."

"Then you'd never act," Mistoffelees snapped and turned around, slipping through the dance floor.

The Prince paused for the briefest of moments before following the other quickly.

"What do you want?" Mistoffelees asked, whirling at the edge of the room and pausing before throwing his hands up. "Nevermind, I already asked that."

"I answered that, and I answered the why of it and I had the why hurled back in my face and I'd like to know why now, quite frankly," he answered almost sharply.

"Because it's a stupid answer!" Mistoffelees snapped, glanced around and decided if he was going to yell as much as he wanted to, he'd need to be somewhere private.

Coricopat glanced over and noticed they were starting to draw looks, "Let's speak elsewhere and you can explain just exactly what you mean by that." Looking him over, Mistoffelees took a breath and turned, leaving the ballroom entirely, Jemima frowning after him and Coricopat.

The Steward let Mistoffelees choose the room for the confrontation, entering behind him and stepping away from the door, his expression closing off, "Now, since you've either insulted or lashed against everything I've said in the last fifteen minutes, would you care to explain _why_?"

"Why what?" Mistoffelees asked, somewhat surly and leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "Why I think you're a fool?"

 "Yes, for a start."

"Because there is never enough time," Mistoffelees said, striding forward again. "Because you'll never know someone and it's worthless to try because it could take forever, when would you decide? And finally, who in their right minds just wants a kiss? Are you incompetent?"

Coricopat's eyes narrowed, "No.  I'm not.  You asked what I wanted after the dance.  I want nothing more from you now than a kiss.  What more do you want me to say or do?  That I desire you? A person would have to be dead not to."

For a second Mistoffelees just stared at him before pushing off. "I've never liked words," he said. "So if you want something? _Do_ it. Until then, I don't care," he snarled, anger spiraling down fast.

Eyes widening, the gray-jeweled Prince stumbled back a several steps.  The door opened at that moment, Griddlebone entering, "Mistoffelees?  Coricopat?"  She froze at the scene before her and the chill that was starting to appear in the room.

Mistoffelees' eyes snapped over and stopped there, watching her for a moment before he sucked in a deep breath, instincts warning with his orders from Martin and his own anger. "My Queen," he replied, voice formal.

She inclined her head to him, "Mistoffelees.  Is everything alright in here?"  The Queen very specifically did not address or look at her Steward, she would either deal with him later, or let Jemima do it.

He took another deep breath. "Perfectly," he replied calmly, breathing again. "You wouldn't happen to have anything that needs destroying would you?"

Griddlebone nodded, "There's a tree out behind the garden that we've been meaning to have taken care of, but haven’t yet.  It's directly back of the lilies.  It should be a start."

"Good," he said, sweeping from the door and outside.

Griddlebone turned on Coricopat, her eyes narrowing, "I don't know what you did.  But I'm seriously considering letting Jemima handle you at this point because I'm just a little too angry with you." He opened his mouth to say something, whether a defense or an apology she didn't much care and the door closed behind her before he could say anything.  Coricopat sank back against one of the walls, breathing heavily, eyes still wide and locked on the door.

The door slammed open in another moment. "What did you say?" Jemima shrieked at him.

He startled back away from her, "I don't even know!"

"Think really hard about the last thing you said to him before you sent a Warlord Prince spiraling so quickly toward cold that we could feel it in the _ballroom_?"

The Steward paled, "He was still on about why I would only want a kiss. I said something.  Beyond that...  I...I told him I desired him.  That-that a person would have to be dead not to."  He sounded confused as he related that.

Jemima gave him a long slow blink. For a moment she seemed to just consider that before her eyes widened and a hand came to cover her mouth.

Coricopat eyed her warily, "What did I say?  What did you see?"

"I didn't see anything," she said. "And now I have nothing except suspicion."

“Are you going to tell me those, or am I going to risk stumbling through them and getting myself killed again?"

"As far as you can tell what set him off was saying that everyone would desire him?" Jemima asked.

Coricopat nodded, starting to think he was seeing where she was headed with her suspicions.

"Why would that send him over the edge?" Jemima sighed. "I'll just hope it's not the case, and we might find out one way or the other so long as you can keep your foot out of your mouth."

Nodding again, the Steward leaned more heavily against the wall, "I-I'll, yes.  I'll do that then."

"Good," Jemima took a breath.

"I...I think I'll be retiring for the night."

 "Try to sleep tonight," she said softly. "Things will... surely look better in the morning."

"One can hope they will, but you can't promise that."

Reaching forward, she rested her hand on his shoulder before dropping it and turning away. "It will," she assured him. "But I'd still consider apologizing tomorrow."

"I'll...yes, I'll apologize.  But I don't know that he and I in the same place for any length of time is a good idea."

Jemima stopped to roll her eyes. "Right." Coricopat shook his head and slipped out of the room, retreating to his chambers and locking himself in for the night.

o-o-o-o

Out in the gardens, thankful that most of the guests had gone home or the night or returned to their chambers, Mistoffelees stood in front of the tree Griddlebone had pointed out, slowly using craft to destroy it branch by branch, breaking down the wood and leaving behind mulch chips. Hopefully the gardeners would find some use for them, but if not he needed to wreck something.

He was fairly certain Coricopat had no idea what he said that almost sent him cold, the deep anger of the jewels. He'd gone spiraling so fast toward the abyss his hand was still shaking.

Mistoffelees had wanted more than anything to laugh and ask Coricopat if he thought the demon dead wouldn't desire him but instead couldn't get the leer out of his head of the province Queen he'd served before he'd made the Offering to the Darkness.

It had been a small court, pushed to the side of Terreille while Dorothea SaDiablo ruled. The court had talked about him for years, ever since he'd been given the red but as he got older and closer to the Offering the talk had increased as fear stories about Daemon circulated more and more. Finally, as the world seemed to explode in fear overnight, the Queen got it in her head to try and break him, deciding his potential power wasn't worth what Mistoffelees might do. Except breaking his mind wouldn't have been nearly enough and she wasn't entirely sure to go about breaking a males power, as they had no Virgin Night like female witches did.

Mistoffelees didn't even remember much of what happened, just that one night the Queen had walked down the hallway toward him, reaching a finger out to touch where he was wearing the Red around his neck and had murmured something for him to follow.

As she hadn't known how to break someone, she'd decided to go the route she knew worked on witches, calling in some of the stronger males of her court to spear him and hoped that would work.

Except it didn't work and when Mistoffelees caught up with what was happening again the other Warlord Prince of the court was laying on the side of the bed with a broken neck, and Martin stood over the Queen, having phased the heart out of her body. Lifting the bloody organ to his mouth, he kissed it before dropping it next to her body. "Stupid bitch," he murmured before turning to Mistoffelees.

Leaning over, Martin cupped his cheeks, covered with blood from where he'd bitten the skin off the dead Warlord Prince's cheek and Martin murmured the softest words Mistoffelees had ever and would ever hear from him. Running a thumb over Mistoffelees' eye, wiping the tears away and smearing the Queen's heart blood there instead, Martin told him to make the Offering tomorrow. They were at the Dark Alter when a storm swept over the kingdoms, leaving Mistoffelees with an uncut black.

When they returned to the Court it lay decimated so they left together and Mistoffelees had never worn his black jewel openly on his chest.

Finally looking up he realized the entire tree had been crushed, and he'd taken out a few rose bushes too, the petals strewn atop of the mulch and he decided he just wasn't going to sleep that night.


	4. Can't Much Stop Them

Coricopat rose before dawn the next morning, closeting himself in his study to deal with the aftermath of the party for most of the morning. Breakfast had long since passed, and it was heading toward noon before he finally left again and made his way down to the training grounds, hoping to find Mistoffelees there in order to apologize to him.  He brushed off a couple of the younger Warlords who called for him to actually spar for once, his gaze sweeping the ground until he spotted the Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince facing off against Jemima.

That morning Jemima had taken one look at the circles under Mistoffelees' eyes that he hadn't bothered to hide and pointed toward the sticks, smiling when he nodded. She certainly didn't trust any other member of the court except Griddlebone with him.

They had been working on each other for over an hour by the time Coricopat approached, Jemima tumbling to the ground and kicking Mistoffelees down to join her. "Break?" she rasped, glancing over and he actually smiled.

"Water," he agreed, pushing himself to his feet, not noticing Coricopat yet.

The Steward hesitated before crossing the last distance to where the two had been sparring, still not entirely certain what he intended to say.

Bending over to stretch his spine out, Mistoffelees straighten, Black Jewel on its silver chain slipping out of the shirt as he reached for the water, finally spotting Coricopat and pausing. Inclining his head to the other man, Coricopat murmured, "Mistoffelees."

"Can I help you?" he asked, drinking from the cup as Jemima approached to stand at his shoulder, glaring over it at Coricopat to make sure he behaved himself, sipping from her own cup.

"I wished to apologize for last night.  For what I said," he added, gaze not leaving Mistoffelees' face, though he was extremely aware of the Black Widow's presence as well.

"It was nothing," Mistoffelees said, carefully not looking away and aware how flat the lie sounded, considering the demolished corner of the garden.

"It was rather apparently more than nothing," the Prince countered mutedly.

"Than it's nothing you could have helped," Mistoffelees amended.

"Which doesn't change the fact that I regret causing you distress."

Mistoffelees barked out a short laugh and caught it quickly. "It's fine," he said, tone firmer. "There's nothing that could have warned you, so let it go."

Coricopat hesitated, but inclined his head again and backed down, "As you wish."

"Can I help you with anything?" he asked, brushing the hair out of his face.

"No.  I've said what I came to say," the taller man answered, still not looking away, though his gaze flickered down to the pendant around the other's neck.

Mistoffelees frowned, glancing down at the ground and seeing his chest he froze for a long moment.

"I was beginning to wonder if you actually wore it," Coricopat murmured before he thought about it.

Eyes narrowing, Mistoffelees tilted his head. "Really?"

His grey eyes moved quickly back to the other's face, "Somewhat."

Hand going up to cover the jewel, Mistoffelees rolled his other shoulder. "It wouldn't be very wise not to wear it," he murmured.

"No.  Which is why I didn't give active credence to it."  He considered the way the other shielded the jewel, but didn't comment on that, "Though, not displaying the full power of what you wear at a given time is a wise decision."

Mistoffelees glanced over Coricopat before shrugging. "Everyone knows my strength already."

"It's different to know it cognitively and to see it as a reminder," the Steward murmured in response.

Tilting his head, Mistoffelees swallowed before dropping the jewel back underneath his shirt. Coricopat hesitated, his gaze moving briefly to Jemima, "I...I should let you get back to you sparring."

"I have a lesson to get to," she shrugged. "Teazer is still failing at her history lessons."

His lips curled upward very faintly at that, "She seems to live far more in the now, and even one might hope in the future than the past."

"I hope she's living somewhere useful," Jemima said before breezing off, pulling her hair down and twisting it back into a sloppy bun as she walked. Coricopat watched her go, uncertain about being left even nominally alone with Mistoffelees at the moment.

Mistoffelees blinked over to him. "Something on your mind?"

He glanced back at the other, "Beyond my inability to not stick my foot in my mouth around you to varying degrees? Not especially.  Trying to recall exactly what needs seeing to today."

"And how does a Court like this run?" Mistoffelees asked, actually sounding truly curious.

"On lots and lots of paperwork," Coricopat answered dryly.  "I have a couple of more thank you's to send out to a few of the guests from last night, or at least get written to be signed.  And a business contact who I've been avoiding for too long arrived last night so I can't put him off any longer either."

"That sounds," Mistoffelees started and made a face.

The Steward laughed quietly, "Dreadfully dull?"

"Awful," Mistoffelees nodded.

"All in a day's work.  Well, not entirely, these are more specific to today.  But as I said, lots of paperwork."

"Ugh," Mistoffelees repeated, shaking his head.

Coricopat shrugged, a smile still on his lips, "Someone has to do it."

"Well," Mistoffelees considered, "So long as it isn't me. Was there anything else?"

"No, that's everything."

"If you'll excuse me then?" Mistoffelees asked, setting the cup down after cleaning it with a small spell. "I think the rest of today calls for a shower."

Coricopat inclined his head, stepping aside, "Of course.  Good day, Mistoffelees."

Mistoffelees quirked his brow up, sure that wouldn't be the last time they saw each other the entire day and nodded, moving past the Steward. The Prince watched him go, considering the other man for a long moment before shaking his head and following him inside in order to retreat to the study again.

o-o-o-o

Teazer perched herself on a stool in the workroom, groaning slightly, "History again?"

"You still haven't learned," Jemima said. "This is important. This history was forgotten once and the toll of that was catastrophic. As a dark jeweled Black Widow you will have to serve a Queen and do it well."

Her student drew a deep breath, "Alright, where were we again?"

"The beginning of the Blood," Jemima said, giving her a long look.

"Alright, I'm listening, and you've got all my attention."

"In the past, there were dragons," she said, making sure her pupil was paying attention. "When their time came they traveled the world, dropping their scales which became our jewels, and those they touched became the Blood, the new caretakers of the world," Jemima said, pacing. "That is our job. The Queens are connected to the land because they protect and nurture it. And the men--"

"They serve and protect," Mistoffelees said, from where he was leaning against the door, arms crossed over his white pressed shirt and black vest, shirt carefully buttoned up so that his jewel wouldn't fall out again.

Teazer startled at his appearance, turning to look at him wide-eyed, but turned back to Jemima and spoke, "And the Kindred?"

"The dragons did not leave the care of the realm into just humans. Some of them believed more in the Kindred and some of them simply couldn't reach humans in time," she shrugged. "The dragons were dying and some of them collapsed where they could. That's how we, the Black Widows, started. With the Golden Spiders where Draca's daughter fell. She gave her gift to them."

Mistoffelees frowned from the doorway. "Dragons?"

Teazer turned around to face him now, "You haven't heard of the dragons?"

"The dragons weren't part of this," Mistoffelees protested, having been taught history before Janelle’s court came to power and having spent little to no time in Kaeleer since those days.

Jemima smiled. "Yes, where did you think our jewels came from?" she asked. "They are the scales of dragons. It's why uncut Jewels have been rarer over the centuries as the original scales run out," she continued as his hand came up to touch where his own Jewel, which had come to him uncut was."Lorn himself still lives underneath the keep."

Golden eyes widening, Mistoffelees sputtered in shock.

"Your grandmother met him, didn't she?" Teazer looked back to Jemima, eyes alight.  She was always better with mroe recent history that still had those who could tell it from memory alive.

"She did," Jemima nodded. "She was part of the Dark Court, trained by Karla herself of the First Circle. She of course wasn't first circle, but Janelle was the one that Lorn awoken, who spoke to him," she paused, looking at Mistoffelees. "They say Lorn had a connection to the Black Jeweled men."

Mistoffelees took a step back, not saying anything.

"And Draca?" the younger Black Widow glanced between her teacher and the Warlord Prince.

"She lives in human form, also at the Keep," Jemima said. "With Geoffry, the librarian." She laughed at Mistoffelees' expression. "You are from Terreille."

"Don't feel too bad, I had that reaction the first time I heard too," Teazer assured him with a grin.

"But," he shook his head.

"I'm sure Lorn might even be interested in meeting you, as you're the third such of his strongest protectors," Jemima said before turning to Teazer. "Now. Why are there courts?"

"Umm..."  She hesitated, "I..."

Jemima sighed. "The Queen protects the land. The men serve and protect her which is why there is a triad around her. The Warlord Prince's serve on the knife's edge but they are here to protect the Queens and through them the very health of the land. We are the caretakers of the world, that is why we were given Craft," she said, looking at Mistoffelees as she spoke rather than Teazer.

"Right." Teazer hesitated, "So there are courts to better enable us to do that?"

"Formal protocol keeps the Blood in line," Jemima nodded. "When those covenants are broken, well--"

"Terreille happens," Mistoffelees said softly.

Rumpleteazer glanced at him and then away, "So the courts give us the ability to have formal protocol and when they're honored things go right?"

"Generally speaking," Jemima nodded. "Protocol keeps us all in line when we need it."

"And since the Dark Court it has."  She paused for a long moment, "What happens when the Dark Court passes out of memory?  There were people who remembered protocol and history before weren't there?"

"That is why we teach history," Jemima pointed out. "Because next time there will either have to be another purge," she said, noticing Mistoffelees shudder and realized she's never spoken to someone from Terreille at the time of the purge Janelle had sent through all the realms, wiping the corrupt blood out. "Or we will go the way of the dragons. Only hopefully we will have the time to pass our knowledge on like they did."

Her student shifted uncomfortably at that, "Hopefully.  Is...is there anything else for this lesson, Jemima?"

"Yes, but now I should hope you know why to focus on history," Jemima said, giving her a long look. "Now, work on your illusions." Teazer nodded quickly, turning her attention to the next part of her lessons.

o-o-o-o

Outside the palace, Martin dropped off the web, dusting himself off and making sure his grey suit was immaculately pressed, straightening his sleeves. He'd ridden the red winds, as he didn't want to muss his suit too badly, and was annoyed at how much power he had to extent to protect his servant.

Tumblebrutus caught himself as they came off the web, shaking very slightly.  He hated having to travel on that level of the winds, knowing what it could do to him without Martin's protection.  His gaze swept around the exterior of the palace, nervously fiddling with the purple dusk ring he wore on his left hand.

"Come along," Martin said, brushing his dark hair back and striding forward, confident upon approaching the imposing facade.

Not daring to pause, Tumble hurried along after him, keeping his mouth shut even as his brown eyes darted around.  The door opened a moment after Martin's knock, a green-jeweled warlord on the other side, "Yes?"  Jerrie looked the newcomers over, trying to remember if he'd heard mention of expected guests.

"Hello," Martin said, smiling coldly and giving the Warlord's green jewel  with a smirk. "I was wondering if your Steward was in?"

He kept his expression neutral, though he had the urge to growl and hide his jewel under that look, "Who should I tell him is here?"

"Martin Smith," he replied calmly. "Or rather, someone who needs a place to stay."

"Of course.  Step inside, I'll see if he's available."  Jerrie held the door for the other men, waiting until they were in to close the door and head to the Steward's study.  He knocked on the door and waited for Coricopat to call for him to enter before stepping inside.

The Steward looked up, "Yes, Jerrie?"

"There's someone as just arrived.  He asked t' see the Steward."

"Did he say what about?"

"That he needs a place to stay."

"Anything else?"  Coricopat's eyebrow arched.

"Name's Martin Smith, he came with a servant.  And I don' like the feel I get when I look in 'is eyes."

"So I hear," the Steward knew Jerrie spent long years training his accent out of his voice and the fact that he'd let it slip the second he was in the study was telling.  "Well," he slid the papers he was working on into the top drawer of his desk and locked it, "lead the way then."

Jerrie nodded, drew himself together--Coricopat could almost see him reminding himself which letters to not drop--and led the way out of the study and down to the foyer, having paused only long enough for Coricopat to lock the study.  The Steward put on his most receptive smile, "Mr. Smith, Jerrie tells me you're in need of a place to stay?"

"I was passing through," Martin said easily. "And was wondering if your court, being the only one nearby for miles, might be able to accommodate me?"

Coricopat looked him over, his hackles rising slightly, but outwardly he remained serene, "I'm certain we have rooms somewhere that we could put you up in for the night."

"And mine?" Martin asked, gesturing to Tumblebrutus.

His eyes moved to the Purple Dusk Warlord who was doing his best to be as small and unnoticed as possible.  What it must be to be this man's servant he didn't want to contemplate, "Of course."

"Excellent," Martin said with a cold smile. "I've heard such interesting things about your court I've wanted to come and see it for quite some time."

Coricopat arched an eyebrow, "And here I thought you said we were the nearest available court."

Martin smiled, his own brow inching up to mirror Coricopat's. "Are they truly exclusive? I have wanted to visit your Court for some time. It happened to be the nearest one this afternoon as well, so I could not only find a place for the night but a place I have long since desired to see."

Smiling thinly, the Steward inclined his head, "Of course.  If the two of you will follow me we'll see about finding you rooms for the night."

Martin smiled again, nodding. "Thank you," he said, eyes moving up to the top of the stairs, where Jemima and Mistoffelees appeared, Mistoffelees appearing to still be arguing with her over the source of where his Black Jewel came from, hand motions surprisingly animated as she smiled indulgently at him.

Coricopat turned and started up the stairs, his smile turning more genuine when he spotted Mistoffelees and Jemima.  Tumblebrutus' eyes widened at the sight of the Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince looking almost relaxed and he glanced toward Martin as he followed the other men upstairs.

Shaking his head again, Mistoffelees turned to see who was approaching up the stairs and froze, eyes widening. "What're--?" he started and stopped. "Hello."

"Prince," Martin greeted, inclining his head, still only halfway up the stairs.

Gaze darting between the two of them, Coricopat's brow arched again, "You know one another then."

"We've met," Mistoffelees replied, glancing back at Tumble and trying to offer him a smile before snapping his attention back to Martin, sure he looked startled still.

"Several times," Martin amended, smile changing slightly, become both warmer and slyer.

Tumble's lips quirked upward faintly before the smile vanished and he continued to watch them with wide eyes.  Coricopat frowned ever so slightly, "Well, that's good to know.  I was just showing these gentlemen to their chambers for the night, if the two of you will excuse us?"

"Of course," Mistoffelees said, taking half a step back as Martin reached the top of the stairs, wrapping an arm around Mistoffelees' waist and murmuring something in his ear before drawing back enough to meet the Warlord Prince's eyes, trailing his hand all around his stomach before sliding past him.

The Steward pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly before he swept off down the left hall, leading Martin and Tumble along.  He paused briefly at another fork, the right branch led to the chambers he'd given Mistoffelees, he turned left again and after a right turn and another left they reached the end of a corridor and he opened the second to the last door, "Your room, sir.  Your servant can take the next one, there's an adjoining door just there."  The room was hardly their best guest room, and, though clean, looked like it hadn't been entered for more than that in years.

Martin arched his brows and smiled coldly at the Steward. "Of course," he laughed, realizing exactly what this was and wondering if the other had planned to put them here since he saw them, or after Mistoffelees. The answer would be rather relevant he decided. "And how has your Court adjusted to a Black Jeweled Warlord Prince?"

"I believe he's settled in quite well," the Steward replied, evenly, unwilling to grant the other man anything more than that.

"And would the rest of the Court agree?" Martin pressed gently.

"From what I've observed and heard, yes.  Now, if you will excuse me, I have other matters to attend to."

"Certainly," Martin nodded. "I'm sure we shall be able to settle in here without your help."

"One would certainly hope," Coricopat murmured, inclining his head and slipping out, disappearing down the hall.

Martin looked after him and glanced at Tumblebrutus. "The bags?" he asked, arching a brow, leaving it to his servant to carry most of their luggage, though he kept his most important tools in his own place, where those of the Blood could vanish their belongings to re-summon them when they wished. Martin had once heard it described as a personal closet but turned his nose up at the description.

The servant nodded once, quickly working to summon Martin's luggage and set it to one side, "Sir?"

"Yes?" he asked, looking around the room again.

"I...that is, why are we here?"  He kept his tone quiet, almost sounding ready to retreat from the question if need be.

"Because Mistoffelees seems to have gotten himself distracted," Martin shrugged. "Besides, I always prefer to see places about to be destroyed."

Tumble nodded slightly, "Of course."  He moved carefully about the room straightening things up and generally making things look fractionally more livable, glancing at his employer ever couple of moments.

Calling in a black notebook, Martin flipped through the pages for a while before glancing up and over. "You may leave now," he said before focusing back on the book.

Tumble bowed quickly and retreated to his own chamber.  He leaned against the door, gaze sweeping the room before settling on the position of the bed.  Frowning he drew a deep breath and crossed the room, struggling for a moment with the craft required and finally managing to move the wardrobe out of the far corner and further along the wall.  He drew a deep breath and crossed back to the bed, he focused, still having to fight with it until he was able to get it into the place the wardrobe had originally stood.  He really needed to remember the actual size of things he could move easily and not attempt furniture with any frequency.  Sinking down on the bed--nicer than he'd expected for a room given to him--he called his own small bit of luggage in and considered the merits of actually getting to his feet again and unpacking.

Moments later, a knock came on the door and Mistoffelees pushed it open, feeling too jittery to wait. "Hey," he said quietly.

Tumble looked up, briefly startled, before he relaxed again and offered the other a faint smile, "Hey."

"Sorry," Mistoffelees said, closing the door and leaning against it. "New place and all that, just sort of used to barging in on you." He paused, considered. "That sounded awful, I'm sorry."

The other laughed quietly, "No.  Don't be, it's familiar to have you do that."

"I suppose if I can provide something," Mistoffelees said with a faint smile.

"How..."  He hesitated, "How have you been?  I mean until we showed up."

"How about you answer that question first," Mistoffelees said with a strained smile.

"Or neither of us could answer it?" Tumble gave as a counter offer.

Mistoffelees paused. "Actually, that's a solid offer. Are you at least doing alright?"

The servant nodded, "As well as can be expected."  He paused, "Are you?"

"I'm still trying to figure that one out myself," he said with a faint smile.

"Well, tell me when you figure it out?" Tumble offered him a ghost of a smile in response.  "Where are you staying?"

"In the nice area of the place," Mistoffelees said, glancing around. "I mean, I suppose this is livable but..."

Tumble shook his head, "It's fine.  And there's enough space too."  He hesitated, "Though it'll be quiet down here."

"Which could be for the best in some ways," Mistoffelees said, noticing where Tumble had moved the bed and giving him a faint smile.

The servant offered him a sheepish smile at the look, but sighed, "It, it could be."

Mistoffelees looked him over again and held a hand out. "Or you could come with me. I believe there was a card game going on in the garden."

Tumble looked at his hand, his gaze darting nervously to the adjoining door with Martin's room, "I...That could be alright."

"I'm sure he won't need you for a while," Mistoffelees said, gesturing. "Come on."

Smiling uncertainly, Tumble rose, "Well, in that case..."

"And I'd even take the blame," Mistoffelees said, pulling him along.

"You don't have to do that," Tumble protested quietly as he allowed himself to be dragged through the halls to the garden.

"It's under my pressure, isn't it?" Mistoffelees said, smiling back at him before shrugging and turning the last corner to find the doorway into the gardens.

"Still, I'm the one who left," Tumble answered, but he fell silent when they stepped out into the garden.

"It'll be fine," Mistoffelees said one last time before approaching the group, inclining his head to Griddlebone.

Hesitating, Tumble followed him over, extremely conscious of his light jewels.  Griddlebone offered Mistoffelees a smile, her gaze moving to Tumble, "Oh, and who's this?"

"Tumblebrutus," Mistoffelees replied, quickly running through introductions, Sonya smiling at him in reassurance.

The Purple Dusk Warlord looked fractionally less nervous, glancing around for a place to settle.  Coricopat approached from the palace, smiling when he saw Mistoffelees, though his gaze darted to Munkustrap when the other spoke, "Looks like a couple of rose bushes got mulched with that old tree." 

Griddlebone hushed him sharply, glancing toward Mistoffelees and blinking at the wide-eyed look Tumble offered the Warlord Prince.  Tumble slid a little closer to Mistoffelees' side, murmuring, "You took down a tree?  Who made you angry enough for that?"

"I'm surprised it was taken down so quickly," Sonya said with a shrug. "It's been rotting for such a long time after all, it was a bit of a shock to suddenly find it gone."

Mistoffelees continued smiling, though it thinned obviously around the edges, shaking his head slightly at Tumble before glancing significantly at Coricopat.

Tumble's gaze darted to the Steward and his brows rose sharply.  Coricopat cleared his throat, abruptly changing the subject, "I believe I'd heard tell of a card game out here, not a discussion of the new landscaping."

Sonya benevolently handed Coricopat his hand, having decided he didn't have the skill to get out of the hole he'd dug himself as Mistoffelees shuffled Tumble toward the card table and stepped back to lean against a young tree. Tilting his head back to feel the afternoon sun on his face he tried not to think about what a long day it'd already felt like.

"I'm still confused about the tree," Macavity said, frowning at his hand and turning it upside down to see if that helped.

Coricopat took one look at Sonya's cards and offered the Consort a long look, he knew better than to join in a game of Cradle, yet here he was with a hand that he was pretty sure would lose worse than usual. "The tree needed to come down, and so it did.  Which variation are we playing?"

"Twelve," Macavity said, voice edging toward a growl and Mistoffelees glanced up in some confusion, not recognizing the game at all.

"Twelve?" the look Coricopat shot Sonya at that was unkind to put it mildly before he cleared his expression slightly and turned back to the game, resigned to losing out to everyone present, not just the women.

Sonya smiled gracefully back at him, rather than snicker which would have been appropriate. Peering over Coricopat's shoulder, Mistoffelees considered the game, leaning closer to the board, and Coricopat's back as the hand progressed.

"Twelve's the one we _can't_ forfeit, right?"  Coricopat asked as absently as he could with Mistoffelees' proximity the other thing on his mind.  Rearranging the cards in his hand for the third time in as many minutes, the Steward glanced around the table.

"Yes," Macavity agreed.

"I don't understand at all," Mistoffelees said with a frown.

Teazer's lips curled into a grin at that as Coricopat glanced back at Mistoffelees, "That would be, as far as we can determine, the point."

Sliding into the seat next to Coricopat, Mistoffelees watched the game progress closely.

"You know they say Sadi discovered a variation that we could win," Munkustrap remarked, turning half his cards upside down and shuffling them back into his hand.

"And do you really think we'd ever get to play it?"  Coricopat rejoined, eyebrow rising sharply.

"So there can be new variations?" Mistoffelees asked, watching the cards and pieces move.

The Steward nodded, "There can.  Though the one Munkustrap mentioned is the only one known to be winnable by males."  Tumblebrutus' eyebrows rose sharply and he blinked at Mistoffelees from where he was seated next to Sonya.  They'd given the Warlord Prince not only a new card game, which was more than enough, they'd offered him a challenge too.  This was going to be interesting.

Mistoffelees nodded at that, eyes still on the game, watching as Teazer won the first hand, and Griddlebone looked on her way to winning the second one.

The Queen won the second hand, and the third went to Jemima.  The longer the game progressed the more confused and frustrated the males at the table looked--Munkustrap taking advantage of the third round in a variant that permitted one forfeit to the males and snatched it up before the others could.  Setting his cards down he rocked back on the back legs of his chair, more than content to simply watch the others suffer through the game.

After Griddlebone won the fourth hand, Mistoffelees reached forward. "I have an idea for a variant," he said.

"Wait," Macavity glanced over at him. "But you haven't even figured out all the rules enough for that yet."

"Oh yes I have," Mistoffelees smirked at him.

Coricopat looked skeptical, "You've watched four hands and you have a variant?"

Tumble spoke quietly from where he'd been watching and trying to be invisible at the same time, "If he says he does, then he does."

Mistoffelees smiled over at Tumble before nodding to Coricopat. "The rules are complicated, but there's an obvious pattern. It's just building off that pattern isn't it?"

The Steward nodded slightly, "Yes. Though the pattern tends to have a bit of a bias to it."

"Well, we'll work on that then," Mistoffelees said, shuffling the cards and moving pieces around the table until he was satisfied. Griddlebone frowned at the arrangement, but accepted the cards he dealt.

A short while later, Mistoffelees was grinning more broadly than ever and Sonya just shook his head. "Maybe it's a Black Jeweled Warlord Prince thing?"

"No," Tumble responded, "It's a you-gave-Mistoffelees-cards thing."

"That's apparently quite dangerous," Jemima said, frowning at the table and leaning down to consider the arrangement more closely as Mistoffelees leaned back, entirely satisfied and grinned over at Tumble.

Tumble offered him a hesitant grin, as Griddlebone executed the same shuffle of her cards that Munkustrap had tried a few hands before.  The Queen scowled at her hand and then at the board, "Are we sure this is actually a legal variation?"

Coricopat's lips curled into a smile, "Yes, Griddlebone.  It satisfies all the rules."

Macavity laughed, enjoying the expressions on the female's faces.

"We will have to remember this variant," Munksutrap remarked.

"If you can call for it again," Teazer replied darkly.

"There's always ways to call for variants," Macavity chortled.

"I'll write it down for you," Mistoffelees promised primly, ignoring the look Jemima was sending him. His hand faltered when he noticed Martin standing at the entrance to the garden, watching him.

Tumble noticed the hesitation and his gaze rose.  Spotting Martin he sank a little lower in his seat, hoping that Sonya's bulk would conceal him a bit.  "I should hope so," Teazer returned, scowling at her cards as though willing them to make sense.

Coricopat glanced from Mistoffelees to Martin, keeping his expression carefully neutral.

"What are you hoping for?" Mistoffelees asked, snapping his attention back to her as Martin smiled thinly at the proceedings, not looking like he minded Tumble being there at least, though his eyes flashed as he watched Mistoffelees.

She looked up from her cards, "That a written version of this appears somewhere eventually."

"Why?" he asked, frowning. "So more men can find out how to play it?"

She widened her green eyes innocently, "Well, we ought to give you all some sort of a fighting chance, oughtn't we?"

"She just wants to study it more closely," Macavity huffed, glancing over at her. "However, the benefits of her analyzing might be outweighed by all the men being able to access it."

Coricopat's lips curled upward as Teazer retreated to turning her cards over again, "To actually have a variant that the men of courts know and can win?  That would certainly outweigh her analyzing it I do believe."

"Think of what you could leave for posterity," Sonya drawled, leaning over Mistoffelees' shoulder as he won the hand.

The Steward chuckled, glancing in that direction, "Something like that."

"Or at least for the peace of men's minds?" Mistoffelees offered.

Munkustrap chuckled, nodding, "At least for that.  What is this then?  Variant 28 if we count Sadi's which is rather unfortunately lost to us?"

"You could still ask him," Jemima pointed out. "Whether he would answer you is the question."

"I'd rather not," Sonya shook his head as Mistoffelees shuffled the cards back together and rose.

"Pretty sure we're better off not knowing that one than asking him," Munkustrap remarked.

Coricopat's gaze followed Mistoffelees, "Leaving already?"

"I think it would be best if I only came up with one variation today," he said softly.

"That doesn't mean you can't stay and--" he broke off as his gaze drifted toward where Martin was standing.  His eyes hardened slightly, but he bit back whatever came to his mind, "If you feel you must."

"I'm not going far," Mistoffelees assured him with a smile.

The Steward returned the smile, albeit fleetingly, "Alright."  Griddlebone watched the exchange quietly over the cards she'd just been dealt.

Mistoffelees slipped off, stopping facing Martin and the pair of them started talking, Martin's hand resting on Mistoffelees' hip as the next hand started.

The Queen's gaze had followed Mistoffelees, though she'd returned her attention partially to the game while Coricopat spent more than half his attention on the Warlord Prince and Martin.  After a few moments, Griddlebone spoke up, "Who is that?"

Tumble answered softly, "Martin Smith.  My...my employer."

She looked at him before nodding, "When did the two of you arrive?"

"Just a couple hours ago, milady."

Macavity's eyes went up at that, glancing over at the other and instantly disliking him. For her part, Jemima frowned over at the pair, reminding herself that her tangled webs didn't see everything.

"What brought you to our court, Tumblebrutus?"  the Queen asked quietly, her gaze moving to the Purple Dusk Warlord.

He hesitated, quickly calling to mind what Martin had said earlier, and answered mutedly with his gaze on the table, "This was the nearest court when we decided to stop, and he's heard about it and wanted to see it, thought to kill two b-birds with one stone."  He narrowly managed not to wince at the violent saying he'd tacked on without thinking about it--at least in this company.

Sonya blinked, deciding that even if he hadn't much cared for the feel Martin gave off, he definitely worried about the man if this was the way his servant reacted. He glanced over at Coricopat, following his look to where Mistoffelees and Martin were talking.

"Where are you two put up?"  Griddlebone asked, the question directed at Tumble, but her eyes were focused on her Steward.

"Left at the top of the stairs, left at the next branch, right after that, left and then at the end of the hall on the right," Tumble rattled off automatically, having taken note of how many steps it took walking to get there as well.

The Queen frowned slightly at Coricopat, "Really?  Is everything to your satisfaction?"

His brown eyes widening, Tumble darted a gaze between Griddlebone and the Steward, "Yes, milady.  Everything's fine."

Sonya took a deep breath, letting it out before poking a finger into Coricopat's stomach under the table, trying to get his attention off Mistoffelees and Martin.

The Steward blinked, coming back to himself and growling softly at the Consort before turning his attention to the table, "Yes?"

"You put them in the back guest rooms?"  his Queen fixed him with a long stare.

"The other one said they were looking for a place for the night."

Her frown deepened, but she didn't say anything further, deciding to leave that for later.

"Except now it'll be that much more difficult for them to leave if they get lost in the warren you housed them in," Sonya commented mildly.

"You can find your way in and out, can't you?"  Coricopat looked toward Tumble who nodded quickly.  "See, they'll have no difficulty leaving due to the warren, Sonya."

Sonya rolled his eyes, shaking his head and glancing at where Martin leaned in to say something directly into Mistoffelees' ear.

Coricopat's gaze had moved in that direction again and his expression darkened into a scowl, "If you all will pardon me, I have some work I should finish."

"Of course," Sonya said, blinking once before turning his attention back to the game.

Setting his cards down, the Steward rose and swept toward the palace, gritting his teeth as he had to pass Martin and Mistoffelees on his way inside.

Mistoffelees' eyes tracked him. "Is something the matter?" he asked as Coricopat drew level with them, Martin stepping back.

The Steward blinked at him, clearing his expression entirely, "What?  Oh, no.  I just remembered I have more work to finish yet, and it's really such a lovely day."

"Then stay out longer," Mistoffelees said.

He paused and seemed to consider it before shaking his head, "No, I really do need to get this done.  I'll open the windows or something."

"I hope your work goes well for you then," Mistoffelees said softly as Martin stared at him.

The Steward offered a ghost of a smile that quickly vanished, "Thank you."  He inclined his head slightly before disappearing into the palace.

o-o-o-o

That night, Mistoffelees bolted awake from his nightmares, strangling the scream back in his throat rather than let it out. For a moment he lay sprawled out before pushing himself up, dressing enough to be decent if he ran into anyone else in the hallway and slipping his Black Jewel over his neck before padding down the hallway, hesitating a moment at the corner where the hallway turned.

If he continued, he might run into Coricopat's room, see if all he wanted was still just a kiss or if he could put whatever was between them to rest. Instead, he turned the other way, pushing open the door to the guest room and sliding through the grey lock as he slide into bed next to Martin.

The other woke up to roll over onto his side, pulling Mistoffelees' back to his chest. "It's weak," he murmured into the dark wavy hair as Mistoffelees turned to tuck his head under Martin's chin. "To have such nightmares."

"I know," he murmured.

"But you can't much stop them, can you?" Martin stated more than he asked, hand tangling in Mistoffelees' hair. "The same one?" he asked, other hand pressing a single finger to Mistoffelees' chest, feeling the jewel through his shirt. "About that night?"

"Almost always," Mistoffelees said. "New dreams, different dreams, but always elements. But there has been much that's happened since then too that get wrapped up."

Martin smiled thinly, well aware of at least some of the other things that might fuel Mistoffelees' dreams.

"You were so beautiful then," he said, fingers moving up and down Mistoffelees' spine now, hand trucking up his shirt to touch the light brown skin beneath, causing Mistoffelees to shiver as Martin brushed against the scars from whip marks.

"Are you implying that I'm not gorgeous now?" Mistoffelees asked, feeling settled enough to tease since he woke up.

Martin's hands moved to cup both his cheeks, tilting Mistoffelees' face back and the Warlord Prince's breath caught at the recognition of that gesture. "You're always beautiful," Martin said. "But there's something about being pushed to the edge to make you truly stunning."

"With blood and tears," Mistoffelees said quietly.

"Yes," Martin agreed. "And someday I'll see you pushed there again."

"I don't want to be."

Martin laughed, tucking Mistoffelees' head under his chin again. "I know. But you will be."


	5. You Have Taste

Nuzzling his nose against Griddlebone's hair, Sonya pulled the sheet up further, leaving his hand on her waist and smiling. "Feeling more relaxed yet?"

Tracing her fingers over his chest and curling a bit closer, she nodded almost drowsily, "A good deal more relaxed, yes."

"Good," he said, laughing and fingering her dark hair with his free hand. "You should relax more."

She tilted her head into the touch, a contented smile on her face, "Oh probably.  It's just hard to some days.  Unexpected guests I'm not sure it's good to have in the court contribute too."

"He does seem," Sonya started and paused. "Dangerous," he settled for finally.

"Unsettling and invasive were what I was thinking, but dangerous..."  Griddlebone nodded slightly, "That's rather a good description too. He's also got Cori in quite the mood."

"That doesn't take much," Sonya rumbled.

She smiled at that, "Well, no, but usually he doesn't give guests the least used rooms right off either."

"That's true," Sonya laughed. "But some days all someone has to do to put your Steward in a mood is look at him."

"Just because you don't much like him..." Griddlebone replied, shaking her head. "I'll probably have to talk to him about giving Martin better rooms tomorrow though, if he's staying."

"Do you think he would? Stay, I mean," Sonya asked, brushing aside the comment he didn't like Coricopat. Neither of them enjoyed the other's company, but they served their Queen, the heart of their land, and that's all that mattered.

"Did he look to you like he was planning to leave in the morning?"

"Not particularly," Sonya sighed. "And it would be impolite to kick him out, wouldn't it?"

"Unfortunately.  Especially since I wouldn't mind keeping Tumblebrutus around.  I just don't trust Martin," she frowned.  "And I want to know where he knows Mistoffelees from."

"There is much I would still like to know about Mistoffelees," Sonya murmured. "But, I have been wondering how you think he's settled into the court."

Griddlebone considered that for a moment before answering, "I think he's more relaxed than he was when he came, and I feel like he's started to settle.  On the other hand, there's so many questions about him, that there isn't much trust in either direction as far as I can tell with most of the court."

"And the tree?" Sonya inquired softly.

"That...was something Cori said last night.  I don't know exactly what happened, just that I've never felt someone go that cold that fast."

Sonya had to take a deep breath. "And just a stray comment from Coricopat could send him into that much anger? Griddlebone, he took out that tree more thoroughly and with more precisions than I have seen. What if next time it's a person he turns that rage on?"

"Sonya, he knew what he was doing.  He asked me if there was something that needed dealt with, and I told him.  I know it's not exactly a safe arrangement, but I'm not willing to back down from what I said when he first arrived," she answered, shifting enough so she could prop herself on her elbow to look at him.

Reaching a hand up, he cupped the curve of her breast before sighing. "Except he still had control then. If he loses that..."

She traced a hand down his cheek, knowing he had a legitimate concern but unwilling to fully concede to it, "Sonya, we don't know that he will.  We can't guarantee that he won't, but if we assume that he will, we...we just can't."

"I want to keep you safe," he said. "He _is_ dangerous, moreso than anyone else here. Macavity may be a Warlord Prince but he doesn't scare me nearly as much, and it's not just how much we don't know. I'm not saying kick him out, because I know you never would, but he is dangerous."

"I know that.  I knew that when I invited him here.  We just have to proceed carefully."

He took a deep breath, pulling her back down to nestle against his side. "I know. It's different to meet him though. It's one thing to hear about Warlord Princes who are that dangerous and another to watch him move. Macavity bluffs and acts better at being, well, less deadly than he does. And it's another thing to know what he might do and see any physical proof of it."

She curled next to him, her arm draped over his chest again, "It's more apparent, and more real, that's true. He has a predator's grace, but it's something that even if he doesn't hide well, he keeps under control most of the time."

"It's when he loses that control," Sonya reminded her. "That's all I'm worried about, really."

"You're borrowing trouble," she murmured.  "I'm not saying it's not a good thing to be worried about, just that there isn't much we can do about it."

"I suppose not," he said, tangling their legs together. "And I'm certainly no longer succeeding at my actual job of relaxing you."

Her lips curled upward and she tilted her head back to kiss his jawline, "Well, we could always see about remedying that at least."

"Again," he smiled, tilting her head back to press a long kiss against her mouth, exploring slowly.

o-o-o-o

Breakfast was a relatively informal affair, so that people could arrive and partake when they woke.  Coricopat entered the breakfast room later than he usually did, having stayed up most of the night in his study--though he hardly did anything productive choosing instead to snarl about the newest guest.  He had composed a handful of letters to other Stewards he knew well to ask if they knew anything of one Martin Smith, but he still had to send them--they were locked in the top drawer of his desk at the moment and he intended to see to them after breakfast.

A short while later, Martin strode into the room, Mistoffelees following fairly closely behind and covering his yawn with one hand. He was dressed as neatly as ever, but his eyes looked less shadowed and his hair a bit more rumpled.

Coricopat's gaze rose and swept over Mistoffelees, lingering for a moment on his hair.  His expression darkening for a moment, the Steward cleared it and offered the other two men a forced smile, "Good morning.  I trust you both slept well?"

"Quite well," Martin said primly and Mistoffelees blinked at him, frowning slightly at the possible implications of his question.

The Prince's gaze moved to Martin, smile still in place though a hint of a growl entered his tone, "I'm glad to hear it.  How do the two of you know one another?  I don't believe you ever mentioned."

"Old acquaintances," Mistoffelees said, shaking his head to brush it off and Martin smirked.

"But only if you mean old lovers."

Mistoffelees gave him a long, dark look. "Sleeping together does not equate with lover."

Laughing, Martin shook his head and walked over to the sideboard where the food was laid out.

Watching Martin, Coricopat's smile vanished, his eyes hardening but he offered another question of a mostly different topic, "Are the rooms to your liking?"

"Mine or his?" Martin asked, eyebrow arching and Mistoffelees looked like he was about to choke.

"Yours," Coricopat grit out from behind clenched teeth.

"Quite well, thank you," Martin replied sweetly and Mistoffelees started shoveling food onto a plate, nearly growling when Martin reached out to stop him taking as much food as he wanted.

"Don't," he warned and with another small smile Martin withdrew his hand.

Coricopat watched the exchange silently, picking at the last of his food.  He was certain Martin wasn't leaving, unfortunately, but he took a very small pleasure in the fact that the other could easily stay in the rooms he was originally given—small though they might be--as long as he heard no complaints.  The fact that Mistoffelees had likely spent the night in said rooms, raised his hackles, but it wasn't as though the Steward had any right to protest that in the least.

Mistoffelees paused before carefully sitting down next to Coricopat rather than across from him, moving food around his plate before slowly starting to eat.

Coricopat took his time finishing his breakfast before rising, "I'll bid you both a good day."  He looked to Mistoffelees, "I believe there was talk of another game of Cradle this afternoon sometime--or a chance of it--if you would care to join us.  Weather permitting we'll be in the garden again, if it decides to rain the front parlor’s usually where we gather for it."

"Certainly," he said, eyes following Coricopat up and having barely eaten a thing.

The Steward offered him a ghost of a smile at that, "I'll hope to see you then, in that case.  Good day, Mistoffelees."  He inclined his head in a slight bow before slipping out of the room.

Mistoffelees looked after him, frowning as Martin smirked at him and then left the dining room. Scowling, he looked back down on his plate.

The door opened a few minutes later and Tumblebrutus entered, pausing slightly when he saw Mistoffelees before going and getting a bit of food and settling cross from the other.  "Morning."

"Morning," Mistoffelees murmured, glad that he'd remembered to black lock the door and put up an aural shield last night. "How're you?" he added, looking down at his food again.

"Well, I'm up?" he offered.  "Adjusting to sleeping in a new room."

"You never did like that did you?" Mistoffelees murmured.

Tumble shook his head, "I can memorize the routes out, the number of paces required to reach the door, all those things. It doesn't matter, I don't like new places like this."

Mistoffelees sighed. "It takes a while. I'm just sorry how often you get moved around." Since the purge had gone through, Martin had refused to stay in any one place for long.

The other shrugged, "Well, I go where I have to I guess.  Maybe..." He sighed, "Who am I kidding.  I'll eventually get used to it, in theory."

"In theory," Mistoffelees agreed, disliking moving around so much but being unsure where to possibly settle.

"I'll adjust, just take another couple nights like usual," he murmured.

"Still, it's--" he started and stopped as an irritated Jemima plopped down beside him, scowling at her plate and red hair pulled into a messy bun, curly tendrils falling around her face.

Tumble startled slightly, but settled quickly when he thought he recognized her from the day before. "Can I help you?" Mistoffelees asked and she looked over at him.

"You have taste," she said, downing a whole cup of coffee in a breath and moving on to the second one she'd sat down with.

"Um, thank you?" Mistoffelees offered.

"What...." Tumble paused, trying to figure out if cutting in was a good idea at all.

Jemima turned to glance at him over the rim of the second cup. "Yes?"

"Just wondering what, well, what you mean by that,” Tumble managed, barely not stammering under her look.

"He has taste," she said. "Just look at him. He's a very tasteful man who probably knows what would look good."

"Which is relevant to?" Mistoffelees tried again, moving his food around again.

"Shopping," she said and he sputtered around the bite of meat he'd just taken.

Tumble just about choked on his fruit juice, "You're taking him shopping?"

"I'm strongly considering it," she said, looking him over again.

"What, no? What did I do to deserve this?" Mistoffelees protested.

Griddlebone entered, her hair tied back from her face, one dark lock loose and tickling her cheek as she crossed the room and poured herself a cup of coffee and picked up a slice of toast and an apple, "When are we leaving again, Jemi?"

"In another hour," she said. "Shall we take Mistoffelees?"

She leaned a hip against the table rather than sitting down, considering Mistoffelees, "I think so.  He's certainly got more taste than anyone else we could drag along."

"That's exactly what I was saying."

"No, wait," Mistoffelees said, holding his hands up. "I did not, what?"

"Finish your food," Jemima said, pushing his plate closer to him.

"It'll be fun," Griddlebone contributed.

He looked between them and to Tumblebrutus, desperate for help. Tumble was watching the scene with wide eyes, but shook his head silently asking the other what he wanted him to do about it.

Mistoffelees scowled at him before taking a breath and trying to force more food down. "And... where are we going shopping?"

Griddlebone swallowed her bite of apple before answering, "There's a town not far from here that we usually go to.  They've got a lovely set of stores."

"But what are you looking for?" Mistoffelees said, fighting back panic.

"Well, there's some clothing stores, some supply shops, and mostly the bookstores. We need some more furniture for the guest rooms too," Jemima said, looking over at Tumble again.

"Especially if we're suddenly putting guests in ones that I didn't realize we had," Griddlebone added.

Tumble offered Jemima an uncertain smile before dropping his gaze briefly, "They're real nice rooms the way they are, I think."

"Only if you find barrenness attractive," Jemima deadpanned back at him.

"They're a little empty, but it's not a bad thing," he answered quietly, preferring a room with less furniture as a place easier to maneuver through.

"At the very least they need a tapestry to cheer the place up," Jemima said, watching his reactions quite closely.

"You're putting tapestries in all of your guest rooms?"  he sounded skeptical.

"Why not?"  Griddlebone responded, genuinely curious of his answer.

Tumble backed down quickly, "No reason.  I mean if you like the idea then there's no reason not to."

"Makes them look homier," Jemima said. "And some rooms need all the help they can get."

"I'm not sure I'm dressed for shopping," Mistoffelees tried as a last ditch effort.

"We're not leaving for almost an hour," Griddlebone replied.  "That's plenty of time to get changed if you really think you need to."

"I do," he said, pushing the plate away and leaving quickly, Jemima still staring at Tumblebrutus over the table. Tumble shifted in his seat, starting to get up as well, but settling back briefly as Griddlebone exited to get a few things before it was time to leave.

"So," Jemima said, still pinning him with a look. "Can you tell me anything to keep two grey jeweled males from killing each other over the Black Jeweled Warlord Prince who looks like he's never gone shopping before?"

His eyes widened, "Wh-what?  What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. What's going on with Martin and Mistoffelees and leading into not dealing with cleaning the walls after Coricopat and Martin go after each other."

The servant shook his head quickly, "I...no.  Just, no.  I can't talk about that."

She blinked. "Not at all?"

"I value my life and job more highly than that," he responded.  "Your question..." Tumble hesitated, his gaze flickering to her jewel and the hourglass she wore, "it's too broad, I don't have any way to answer it without too much risk."

"Coricopat and Mistoffelees have been dancing around each other since he got here," she said, pointing a fork at him. "Now your master shows up and all but claims Mistoffelees as him. Sexually then, what is up?"

"They've slept together in the past," he answered, rising and crossing to the sideboard, always keeping part of his attention on where she was.

She sighed. "That's all I'm getting, isn't it?"

Tumble nodded very slightly, "I really can't offer more."

"Nothing at all?" she pressed lightly. "Like the likelihood of dealing with a dead Steward or dead guest?"

He hesitated, "I really don't know what the chances are there.  They...might be lower than you think."

She gave him an appraising look. "If you think so."

"There's, well, there's always a chance, but I don't know how high," Tumble murmured.

"Well," she said, giving him another long look. "Thank you for your insights then."

He shifted under her gaze before offering her a bow and slipping out of the room. Propping her hand in her chin, she watched him leave before rising to find Griddlebone and hunt down Mistoffelees.

o-o-o-o

Griddlebone entered the carpet weaver's, offering the shop keeper a smile and a nod as she moved through the displayed rugs.  She looked over to Jemima and Mistoffelees, "If we're outfitting the whole of our guest rooms, we're going to have to figure out what would suit the rooms."

"We really only need to outfit a couple of them," Jemima said, with a roll of her shoulders. "Like the ones being used. Tumblebrutus was of no help figuring out to either of their tastes, but they appear to be here in the long haul."

Mistoffelees blinked over at her and focused back on the carpets, moving back to the tapestries.

The Queen sighed, "Well, that's useful.  We'll need some sort of idea if we're going to actually decorate those rooms.  Mistoffelees, do you have any input?  Anything we could pick up for your suite while we're here?"

"My suite is fine," he said, stopping in front of one wall covering, hints of orange in an autumnal scene, hints of a ruin behind some trees. Taking a breath he moved on, looking around for something to fit Martin or Tumble.

Griddlebone strolled over to his side, "Do you have any suggestions for the others at all?"

He considered, stopping at a grey hanging depicting some battle before shaking his head. "This," he said finally, pointing to a historical scene in browns and yellows with highlights in all the tones of the jewels. "For the smaller one."

She ran a hand over the edge of the tapestry, nodding slightly, "Then this one it is."  She glanced toward the shopkeeper, making sure he'd overheard the conversation.

The shopkeeper nodded as Jemima tilted her head at another wall hanging. She reached out to touch the golden spider hanging in a web before looking around. "And for Martin Smith?" she asked.

Turning to look around the shop, Griddlebone frowned slightly and not caring for what she expected Martin's taste to be.

"It," Mistoffelees started and shook his head. "Empty walls most like."

Griddlebone turned back, blinking at him, "Empty walls?"

["Well, if going off his preference," Mistoffelees shrugged. "Or this," he said, pulling at the edges of a scene showing a shadowed forest, something feeling like it was lurking in the back ground but a traditional scene non-the-less.

The Queen considered the tapestry, glancing at Jemima, "What do you think, Jemi?  Blank walls or this tapestry?"

"I might go for blank walls," she said, blinking at it. "However, there's something about the darkness here, it reminds me of the darker side of the blood. The warning for what could go wrong."

"It's just a tapestry," Mistoffelees managed.

Tilting her head on one side, Griddlbone looked over the detail on the tapestry again, "It certainly does have a feel to it.  But...perhaps blank walls would be best." As Mistoffelees shrugged and moved away, Jemima considered it again, looking over the scene before glancing at the orange one Mistoffelees had been looking at before.

Griddlebone made her way carefully along the rows of tapestries, pausing for a moment in front of a small tapestry of deep blues and greens depicting the sweep of a field in twilight. Mistoffelees stopped next to her. "Looking for yourself at all?"

She ran her hand along the edge of the tapestry, "I don't really need any.  Though this one..."

"It's quite stunning," he said as Jemima inched up toward the shop keeper.

Griddlebone smiled faintly, "It is.  And I certainly know where it could go..."  She tilted her head on one side finally nodding, "I think so.  We'll add this one in, I do think."

"It's a good choice," Mistoffelees said, looking around the shop again, stopping at a red and black and grey carpet.

"Are you sure there's nothing here we can pick up for you, Mistoffelees?"  The Queen asked, following him and pausing.

"Certain," he said, glancing back toward the orange covering again and Jemima quietly added the carpet and orange tapestry to the order where he couldn't hear.

Griddlebone confirmed the tapestries would be delivered to the palace and turned to leave, stepping out into the sunlight as she addressed her companions, "Where to next?"

Mistoffelees looked around as Jemima considered. "Bookstore," she said firmly. "Unless there's any occasions calling for new clothing?"

Thinking for a moment, Griddlebone shook her head, "I can't think of any at the moment.  So the bookstore it is then."

"Good," Jemima said, pulling a face. "I hate clothes shopping."

"Really?" Mistoffelees asked, looking over in surprise.

She paused a long moment. "Unless you need clothes?" she ventured and he quickly shook his head, picking at the cuff of his shirt.

Griddlebone couldn't help but grin, "There are occasionally other times that are worth the time spent shopping.  Today really isn't one of them, though."

"But," Mistoffelees started, trying to think of how to explain how it felt to run the fabrics through his fingers and pick out the latest cuts. The idea of constantly being able to disguise oneself and redesign oneself and have it be socially acceptable to do so. "Another day then," he agreed and Jemima considered him again.

The Queen glanced at him, "Or after the bookshop if we have time?"

"Another day," he said, rolling his shoulders and strolling outside, Jemima finishing her order with the shopkeeper.

Once Jemima was finished, they proceeded down the street to the book store.  Griddlebone swept inside, drawing a breath of the scent.  There had been a time when she might have laughed at someone suggesting that she would ever find the smell of books comforting but time spent with the library as a retreat she could take had caused some shift to that.

Mistoffelees entered after her, Jemima bringing up the back of the group. Once inside Mistoffelees stopped, taking a breath and looking around, eyes lighting.

Glancing back at her companions, the sapphire-jeweled Queen smiled at Mistoffelees' expression.  She ducked down a row of shelves, trying to remember if there were any specific books she had been wanting, or that Coricopat had been making noises about seeking out. "Are you looking for anything?" he asked, following her, fingers trailing along the spines before he could think about it.

"Well, there's…" She blushed very slightly, "There are a couple of books I was thinking of looking for.  Coricopat's been making noises regarding a specific history as well I think."

 "Which history?" Mistoffelees asked, perking up in interest.

"It's a history complied as best as possible through conversations with the Kindred.  At least, that's what he keeps telling me every time it comes up."

"So a kindred's view of the Blood?" Mistoffelees blinked. "And Coricopat wants that?"

"Yes," she answered both questions as she slipped around the end of one of the shelves and down the next row, running a hand over a red book spine, and drawing her hand away.

"And what about that book?" he asked, leaning against the shelf and looking down the aisle.

Her gaze moved right back to him, dark eyes widening innocently, "Which?"

“This one," he said, pulling the red spine book down.

Color tinged her cheeks, and she plucked it from his hands before she thought about it, "Just a bit of light reading."

"And does Sonya know about your light reading?" he asked, taking the book back.

Her lips quirked very slightly at that, "I'm not sure that's your business."

"It's probably not," he agreed, flipping the book open and pausing, cheeks coloring slightly. "This is light reading?"'

Griddlebone blushed slightly again, but smiled faintly, "Well, light might not be the best way to describe it."

"I'd say not," he said, skimming the paragraph and carefully shutting the book. "So you apparently really didn't mind me dancing with your Steward."

Taking the book back from him she replaced it on the shelf and picked up the two next to it that she didn't have back at the palace and shook her head smiling again, "No.  I most certainly did not."

"Well that's good to know," he remarked, considering the book's spine again before shrugging it off.

"So, now to see if that history's around.  Is there anything you're looking for?"

He was about to brush the idea that he was looking for anything off and realized he'd been staring at too many books longingly for that. "Nothing in particular."

"Sometimes that's the best way to shop in these stores," Griddlebone admitted.  "What do you like to read?"

"Books," he said and laughed. "I don't care, really. History, narrative fiction, mystery, it's really all the same."

She chuckled at that, "You really ought to see about sitting down and talking to Coricopat at some point about books."

"You think so?" he asked, tilting his head and picking up a book of poetry related to the Blood, flipping through the first few pages before scowling and putting it back.

"I do.  Most of the court is decently read, but Coricopat immerses himself in books.  I'm pretty sure half of the books in the library arrived with him," she pulled a book of art off the next shelf and thumbed through it, shaking her head and putting it back after a moment.

Mistoffelees considered that, turning the corner to check the next aisle. "Is this the history?" he asked, holding a green bound book out.

She took the book, opening the cover and thumbing through it, her eyes widening as she did so, "It is.  You have no idea how happy this is going to make Coricopat--he's spent so long trying to find this."

Mistoffelees smiled, shrugging. "I'm sure it's not that big of a deal."

Her lips curled upward at that, "If you really think that, then you can deliver it when we get back."

"If you're sure," he managed, blinking at her as Jemima came around the corner with an armful of books.

"For you," she said, dropping the top one in his hands. He blinked at her, looking down at the romance book similar to the one Griddlebone had been looking at earlier.

"What? Why? Do you really think I need romance pointers?"

"Yes," she said bluntly and he blinked again.

"We found the history, Jemi," Griddlebone announced, something dancing in her eyes.  "Mistoffelees has been kind enough to agree to deliver it."

"I did no such," he protested. "I just found it and you suggested I deliver it."

"Well, I still suggest that.  Would you be willing to do that for me?"

"Of course," he said. "But I'm still confused why you think I need pointers on kissing other men."

"Kissing?  No.  Romancing?  Probably," Griddlebone responded.

"Excuse me?" he asked, glancing over at her.

"Well, there’s a difference between seduction and romance," Griddlebone answered.  "I mean, they can go hand in hand, but they don't always."

"And you consider me incapable of romance?" he frowned, crossing his arm over the book.

"I didn't say that," she answered, shaking her head.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he considered her a long moment. "So what did you say then?"

"I said that I doubt your ability to romance my Steward properly," Griddlebone responded, considering his stance.  "Seducing him is well within your means, but romancing him...I'm not so sure."

"What's so different about him?" Mistoffelees asked.

"He's Coricopat," she spoke as though that was actually a sensible answer and should explain everything.

He frowned and Jemima covered her smile by looking down at the books she carried. "That actually told me nothing," Mistoffelees pointed out.

Griddlebone tilted her head on one side, looking at the Warlord Prince for a moment before nodding, "Which actually just goes to show exactly why you'll fall flat trying to actually romance him.  Let's suppose for a minute you both wanted to and could, how would you go about it?"

For a long moment he blinked at her. "How I would romance him?" he repeated, as if he couldn't believe the words were coming out of his mouth.

Nodding again, she picked another book off one of the shelves, considering it and then replacing it, "That's what I asked."

For a moment he frowned at the books. "I don't know. Doesn't romance usually involve candles and dancing? Or something sappy?"

"Well, dancing you've done," Jemima pointed out. "And that didn't really work out for anyone in the long run."

"And candles in a private setting are as likely to cause Coricopat to go into conniptions as anything," Griddlebone contributed.

"Why? Aren't candles romantic?" Mistoffelees tried.

"That's why you need that book," Jemima declared, nodding to herself and ignoring his scowl.

"They've been tried on him before, too," the Queen offered.  "Jemima's right.  Read the book."

Mistoffelees could feel a snarl try to rise out of his throat. "Who tried that on him before?" he asked, not quite a demand but close.

"His ex-lover.  Several years ago," Griddlebone answered, watching Mistoffelees closely.

He could feel the urge to snarl climb closer to the surface. "So who was his past lover?" Mistoffelees asked, moving carefully to pick up a book and open it, affecting that he was un-phased. "And what did they try, specifically with candles?"

"A Yellow-Jeweled Warlord.  I never asked what happened with the candles, I just know that Coricopat uses oil lamps as much as possible, and really only utilizes candles when dealing with a large dinner or gala for the effect they offer," she responded, leaning slightly against one of the shelves.  "Knowing Cori, the candles are tied to a passably good memory more than anything, but I've no proof one way or the other."

Scowling, Mistoffelees nodded. "So, if that's all the case, would you have any useful recommendations or just a book?"

"I gave you my useful recommendation," She pointed to the history still in his hands.  "Start there."

For a moment he couldn't tell if she was referencing the romance or the history before he nodded. "And then?"

"Talk to him.  Treat him like he's got the intelligence he actually possesses.  A private dinner without candles perhaps.  By then you should have some idea on your own of how to go about it.  Oh," she turned her attention fully to him, "and don't let him retreat to his study and his work when he starts to look or sound like he's actually feeling something.  Because he'll try."

Mistoffelees blinked slowly. "Alright," he managed. "Not that I'm saying I want to romance him," he added with a scowl toward Jemima when she started sniggering at him.

Griddlebone's lips quirked upward for a brief moment, "Converse with him and see if you still say that."

For a long moment he considered her before shrugging and giving the book shelves another longing glance. "Is there anything else we need here?" he asked, feeling exhausted by the entire conversation.

"I'm finished if you both are," the Queen answered with a shake of her head.

Jemima considered the stack of books in her arm and nodded, Mistoffelees considering the two he was holding before shrugging. Griddlebone nodded once before turning and crossing through the aisles to the shopkeeper's counter to pay for the volumes.

Following closely on her heels Jemima deposited her stack, Mistoffelees bringing up the rear and pausing at the end of one shelf as a title caught his eye, sliding the other book into the middle of his pile and waiting for the two women to finish before making his purchases and vanishing the books.

Thanking the shopkeeper, Griddlebone swept out of the shop, pausing once she was on the street, "I believe we're ready to return to the palace now?"

Jemima glanced at Mistoffelees, remembering his initial reaction to being told they didn't like shopping for fabrics and clothing, but seeing his expression, she nodded. "We should return," she said. "I'm sure Teazer has managed to ruin the web I'd left her with already."

"Then home we go before that situation grows worse," Griddlebone agreed, a smile playing about her lips.

o-o-o-o

Coricopat poured two glasses of wine, offering one to the red-haired beauty in his study.  The curtains were drawn back to let in the afternoon sunlight and minimize the number of lamps needed to light the room, "It's good to see you, Bomba.  I hope things have been going well for you?"

She rolled her shoulders. "As well as they ever do," she said, flicking her braid over her shoulder. "Which compared to not even a decade ago, is actually rather excellent. It's funny how standards change. I still just wish some of the villagers would listen when I tell them _not_ to do certain things for their own sake. Then they complain to me about their aches."

He chuckled at that, "Ah, but if they listened, you'd hardly know what to do.  After all, stubbornness is to be expected, as exasperating as it may be."

This time she rolled her eyes. "Of course," she said, swallowing the wine before sipping what remained at a more sedate pace. "What about your Steward duties?"

He grimaced, "We've had an unexpected arrival who I would very much like to throw out on his ear, but instead will likely have to give better guest rooms."

Bombalurina blinked. "That Warlord Prince that caused such a stir?" she asked, unsure who else it could be.

Coricopat shook his head, taking a drink of his wine, "No, certainly not.  He's not only expected, but he's more than welcome.  Did you--oh that's right you missed the gala we threw for him.  No, I mean the Gray-Jeweled arrival who appeared yesterday morning with his servant."

"You hosted a gala without me?" Bomba demanded, managing to look deeply offended. "So who is the new arrival then?"

"His name's Martin Smith.  He's detestable, and he's Mistoffelees' former lover, who I'm not entirely certain is former," Coricopat rattled off, turning his attention to his wine glass again.

"And Mistoffelees is the Warlord Prince?" Bombalurina offered, refilling her glass. "Who's former lover just showed up and you look like the cat left you something distasteful."

"Yes, Mistoffelees is the Warlord Prince.  And when Jerrie comes in here and tells me that the guest who arrived at the door already has his back up before he's done more than let him in, I figure that the cat has left me something distasteful.  You haven't met Martin, and I'm not certain there's someone here who has any who actually likes him," the Steward frowned, gaze moving to the windows.

For a long moment Bombalurina considered him. "And what do you think of the Warlord Prince then?"

He downed the last of his wine before he answered her, pouring himself a second glass, "I find him to be charming.  Dangerous, but charming."

"Charming?" she repeated, eyebrows going up and considering him for a long moment.

Pausing for a moment, Coricopat nodded, "Yes.  Charming.  And a good dancer."

Crossing her arms over her chest she laughed. "I can't remember the last time you called someone charming. However did you managed to dance with him?"

"He didn't want a dinner, he wanted a dance, so we threw a ball," Coricopat answered, ignoring her first comment and setting his goblet down so that he could cross his arms over his chest as well and lean back against his desk.

"And you obliged him?" Bombalurina grinned. "Any other motives there? How much did you dance?"

"Griddlebone obliged him, I simply assisted.  There were...I believe two and a half dances I spent on the floor."

"With him?" the healer pressed, arching a brow.

"I don't see how that's relevant."

"It's entirely relevant to what I'm asking!" she laughed, shaking her head at him. "As if dancing is ever not relevant."

He offered her a long-suffering look before shaking his head, "Yes, they were with him."

"So he's charming and you danced with him," she said and grinned again. "Tant is going to go into some sort of a panic when she hears this, I'm just not going to try and predict which one."

"You two are insufferable.  So I danced with him.  So he's charming.  I also did a fantastic job of saying exactly the wrong thing to trigger something and send him cold enough to destroy that tree behind the garden along with two of the rosebushes. I was damned lucky that he caught himself in time to take it out on that rather than on me."

That sobered her up. "Well, he's a Warlord Prince and an extremely powerful one at that. What did you say?"

Coricopat turned away, clasping his hands behind his back as he looked out the window, "That a person would have to be dead not to desire him."

Bombalurina considered that. "So, you do desire him. And he apparently doesn't like being told he's generally desirable."

"That's about the sum of it," he answered quietly.

"And a couple rose bushes paid the price?"

"Luckily.  Jemima said they could feel him go cold from the ballroom."

Swirling her glass around for a moment, the healer shrugged. "But he didn't harm anyone. How much about his past do you know?"

"Only what Jemima's told me," Coricopat answered, finally turning around.  "He's a century old.  And he's from Terrielle.  And if you repeat that, I'll take my chances with Tantomile and deal with you personally."

Her eyebrows inched up again. "Understood. You could always ask him about his past."

"Oh I can see that going well," he drawled before shaking his head.  "No, if I'm anywhere near him I invariably say the wrong thing or ask the wrong question."

"Martin or Mistoffelees?" Bombalurina asked, finishing the last of the wine.

"Mistoffelees.  Though I give Martin far too many openings for baiting me," he admitted, finishing his glass.

"So you're being baited left and right then," she shook her head, braid falling over her shoulder. "Poor Coricopat."

"I'm not asking for your pity, Bomba.  Sarcastic or not," he responded testily.  "And frankly I have a decent retreat here.  Except that my locks would do no good if either of them actually wanted to enter."

She paused, that news surprising her. "What jewel does your guest wear?"

"The bastard wears the Gray," Coricopat muttered.  "Which means, as I don't trust him, I'm going to have to systematically vanish and call anything I don't want to risk him getting his hands on as I go through my work.  It's a precaution I'd really prefer not to have to deal with, but is rather a necessity."

“Being a little paranoid, are you not?" Bombalurina asked at that. "Hiding your own work from someone who may not even realize where your office is?"

"I'm going to ignore that based entirely on the fact that you haven't met the man," Coricopat responded.  "I just said I don't trust him, and my gray locks won't keep him out."

"He might not be able to break your locks if you're equal," Bomba pointed out and shook her head. "But it's yours to decide."

"I would rather not take the chance."

She shrugged. "Alright, if it suits you. Anyway, I should get back to the cottage. Just wanted to leave the reports for your queen and the new lotions and salves. You know what your sister is like when someone's late."

Coricopat smiled fondly, "Oh I am well aware of how she is.  Take care, Bomba."

"Aren't you walking me out?" she said, tilting her head at him.

"Oh, right, yes, of course I am."  He crossed toward the door to open it for her.

"That's the answer I was looking for," she said, crossing the room in a few quick strides, long and loose skirt swishing after her.

Offering her his arm he opened the door, "Give Tantomile my love.  I really ought to take some time off and come down to the cottage."

"You should," she agreed. "I know your Queen doesn't keep you on that tight of a leash and the place could use more of your touch," she said, sliding her arm through his as they moved toward the front door in time for it to open to admit Griddlebone, Jemima and Mistoffelees.

"She claims such.  I just have so much work to do, so getting away--"

"Should be entirely possible," Griddlebone cut in, heading for the stairs.  "Take a day off once in a while."

"Yeah," Bombalurina said, hitting his arm with her free hand and grinned. "Take a day off and spend it with me."

Mistoffelees stopped dead, entire body stilling.

Coricopat offered her a smile and a shake of his head, "Really, Bomba, I've too much to do right now."

"So take it off next week," Griddlebone called from the foot of the stairs.

"You need to take time for yourself and spend it with me," Bombalurina teased, leaning against him.

The Steward rolled his eyes, "You won't leave off until I agree, will you?"

"Never," she laughed and the sound covered the fact Mistoffelees was growling for a moment.

"Alright, fine," Coricopat sighed, a smile still playing around his face.  "I'll take Friday off, agreed?"

"Good," she started and paused, finally figuring out the sound and glancing toward the door.

Coricopat looked toward Mistoffelees, processing the growl and taking a solid step away from Bombalurina, "Bomba, I think it's time you left."

"I'm thinking it's time to get home," she agreed and Mistoffelees started, as if realizing finally he was making the sound.

The Steward nodded slightly, gaze still focused on Mistoffelees even as he spoke to Bombalurina, "Tell my sister hello and that I'll see her when I can."  Griddlebone had paused a few steps up the stairs, watching what unfolded in the foyer.

"Always do," she said, waving him off and inching toward the door as Mistoffelees moved stiffly away from it, eyes still trained on her until she went outside before he suddenly disappeared down the hallway.

Coricopat hurried after the Warlord Prince, "Mistoffelees, wait."

Shaking his head slightly, the Warlord Prince kept walking, trying to work his agitation out in the stone underneath his feet.

Speeding up, the Gray-Jeweled Prince worked to keep pace with him, waiting for the other to speak first. Several steps later, Mistoffelees glanced at him and down. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to explain that Bombalurina's my sister's lover.  I...might ask you the same thing, though."

"Why would you need to explain that?" Mistoffelees snapped, not quite snarling.

 "That's actually kind of what I'm wondering.  You're growling and snarling, and I'm curious as to why," Coricopat answered, keeping his tone at least somewhat even.

"I'm not--" he started. "You got jealous the instant Martin touched me."

"I...no I..."  He hesitated, "Alright, yes I did.  What's your point?"

"That I can't imagine why you're curious to why I'm snarling," Mistoffelees growled and rounded a corner quickly.

Coricopat drew a deep breath and followed him again, "You mean to tell me that you're jealous?  You've got quite the way of indicating that I should remotely expect that."

Whirling, Mistoffelees slammed him up against a wall, growling again. "I haven't?"

The Prince's eyes widened, but he snapped in reply, "Not as I've seen.  Not enough for this, unless..." He blinked.

"Unless?" Mistoffelees pressed, not quite growling but still close.

He knew better, he really did know better, "This seems rather a lot like staking a claim."

For a moment Mistoffelees just stared at him in surprise, as if the very thought had never occurred to him. "And if it is?"

"Well, then I'd like to be aware of that fact so I move slightly more carefully in my interactions with other people," Coricopat answered.

Swallowing, Mistoffelees took another breath, hands still twisted in Coricopat's shirt front. "I never intended to..."

"Does intention really have much to do with it?" the Prince asked quietly, gaze focused on the other man's face.

"Apparently not," he said, more quietly.

Coricopat hesitated, his question tentative when he finally asked it, "Do you wish you hadn't?"

"I haven't done anything yet, not really," he pointed out. "I could still--"

Expression shuttering at that, the Gray-Jeweled Prince nodded once, "Well, if that's what you wish then far be it from me to keep you in something you don't want.  If you'll release me, I have work that needs to be done."

Mistoffelees blinked once. "No," he said, hands tightening slightly.

The taller man frowned, grey eyes darting back to Mistoffelees' face from where his gaze had drifted down the hall, "No?"

"No, you aren't running away," Mistoffelees said, more firmly. "And I never finished my sentence."

"You made rather clear the first part of your sentence."  He processed what had been said initially, "Who told you that my having work had anything to do with running away?"

"Griddlebone and you're assuming things," Mistoffelees said, feeling like he was getting more flustered the longer he stood there.

Coricopat's jaw tensed, "Not really.  I asked if you didn't wish to stake a claim and you replied that technically you hadn't done anything yet.  It's not exactly that far of a step to reach a logical conclusion implied therein."

"Would you want me to?" Mistoffelees snarled. "It's different when you're not a woman."

"Yes," he snapped in response.  "Yes, I quite frankly would."

For a moment Mistoffelees didn't move. "What?"

Coricopat's eyes held a spark of temper as he replied, "You're going to make me repeat it?  Fine.  Yes, I would want you to stake a claim."

Eyes widening Mistoffelees forgot to breath. "But," he started and shook his head, stepping back suddenly.

Smoothing his shirt unconsciously, Coricopat eyed the other warily, "But?"

"I can't be the--" he started and breathed. "A Warlord Prince is supposed to walk away from a claim, it's a test to see if you want to be with them but I couldn't--I wouldn't know how to walk away."

"I've told you before I want to get to know you.  If that means that you don't walk away, nor let me go by the end of this phase, then..."  He paused, unable to believe he was going to say this, "then I'm alright with that."

Mistoffelees took another breath. "And if I'm not ready?"

"Then you're not ready," Coricopat answered.  "I'm not going to expect anything of you that you're not ready for."

Taking another step back, Mistoffelees shook his head and turned to start walking down the hallway.

Coricopat paused for a moment, torn between pursuing the other again or beating a retreat to lie to himself about exactly how vulnerable he felt in that instant.  He finally shook his head and slipped back up the hall to his study, closeting himself away again.


	6. And This is Relaxing?

A short while later an abrupt knock announced Macavity moments before he entered, pausing when he got a look at Coricopat's face. "That is not the expression of joy."

"And when was the last time I wore one of those?" The Steward responded, calling in a new bottle of wine if Mac wanted to join him for a drink.

Macavity glanced at the already empty bottle on the table and shrugged. "Yesterday I think?"

Coricopat opened the new bottle, vanishing the empty one and poured two glasses, offering one to Macavity, "Somehow I doubt that."

"No, it was certainly... the day before yesterday actually. You were smiling like a dope at Mistoffelees across the dinner table."

"I..." He took a drink of the wine, setting the glass down as he recalled how much he'd already had, "That description hardly seems fair."

"No, it's fair," Macavity nodded and swallowed the wine more quickly than acceptable in polite company. "So what happened?"

"He growled at Bomba this afternoon," Coricopat answered, leaning against his desk.

"Why?" Macavity asked. "Isn't she usually considered, I don't know since I've never seen it for myself, nice?"

"She was wrapped around my arm and insisting I take a day off to spend with her."

"And that got... growling?" Macavity blinked. "From Mistoffelees. But, no dopey expression."

"I went after him to explain who she was...It..."  Coricopat picked up his wineglass again and finished it off before continuing, "We talked about whether or not that might have been anything resembling a claim.  Or rather we snarled about it.  And I'm further from square one than I was before he came apparently."

"How much further?" Macavity asked, slinging himself up to sit on Coricopat's desk.

The Steward frowned at where Macavity opted to perch himself, "Further in the sense that I think he retreated faster than I did at the end.  And I still have no idea what he actually thinks or wants or anything of that sort."

"Growling implies he wants something, don't it?" Macavity asked.

"Yes, but that leaves me absolutely nowhere with knowing what that is.  He never out and out said he didn't want to stake a claim, but he also very decidedly didn't say the opposite.  Even when I asked him directly," Coricopat poured another glass of wine.

Macavity shook his head. "Too many negatives in that sentence, Cor, help me out here. So he didn't say no to claim, but he didn't say he wanted to? Growling and such aside?"

"That's the sum of it.  He asked me if I would want him to stake one, I, fool that I am, answered honestly, and he asked what if he wasn't ready.  I told him that I'd hardly force him into something he wasn't ready for and he promptly retreated."

"Which all things considered is the best thing you could have done, bruised heart or no," Macavity pointed out, swinging on leg.

"Which I'm aware of.  And which was my honest answer.  I still would have preferred a response other than him turning on his heel and leaving," he momentarily worried that he was starting to sound almost petulant.

"Consider the facts, Cor," Macavity said, holding up one hand. "He's a Warlord Prince. You do not play with them or their sexualities without a world of pain. Two," he said, lifting up a second finger. "We have no idea who did play with him in the past and it's pretty obvious someone did, or at least tried to consider the amount of power he had. Three, he appears to be more out of his depth then you are. He's acting scared and that is not a good emotion on anyone that powerful, and with that caste. So he ran. Better than either staking a claim he decides he didn't want later, or ripping your throat out to be done with the whole sorry mess."

Coricopat sighed, finishing his wine and vanishing the goblet before he could be tempted to pour himself another glass, "And I know all of this, Mac.  I'm aware of it, I'm reminding myself of it.  It still grates."  He drew a steadying breath, "What he did was quite probably the best response in the situation."

"He's a scared Warlord Prince," Macavity repeated. "Just, I don't know, avoid touching people for the next few days? Which you usually excel at anyway."

"That shouldn't be difficult, as you said I'm usually so very good at it."  He paused, "Do you think I can safely avoid him for a day or so as well?"

"That I might not consider such of the good plan," Macavity said. "If he looks for you it's best not to hide. Until after he rejects you anyway."

"I didn't say hide.  I won't even put the locks up on the door.  However, I'm more inclined to stay in here than leave it at the moment."

"I'll be sure to let Jerrie know that you need food sent then," Macavity laughed.

Coricopat's lips finally curved upward at that, "Thank you for that."

"I'll also let Sonya know where you are, pending any business," Macavity said, a hint more mischief in his voice.

"Oh don't you dare.  He can search for me himself," the Steward came back quickly.  "Why don't you go distract Teazer from her webs again?"

Macavity scowled at him. "Oh shut up. You know as well as I do why I need to not distract her right now and it doesn't have everything to do with Jemima glaring at me every time I get within three feet."

"She's nearly ready for the Offering, isn't she?"  Coricopat asked quietly.

"Yes," Macavity growled. "Soon. Weeks even. It's why Jemima is more growly than usual."

"Have you put everyone through their paces yet today?"  his friend offered.

"Yes and then I was kicked off the training grounds. So, unless you're coming to dinner, I think it's time to eat my misery away."

Coricopat hesitated, considering that before shaking his head, "I think I'll skip dinner tonight.  Enjoy, and don't forget to let Jerrie know where I'm at please."

"I'll be sure food gets here," Macavity rolled his eyes.

"Good evening, Mac," Coricopat offered quietly.

Macavity considered him before shaking his head and heading out, stopping at the doorway to lean back in. "Just be careful. You vouched for me at this court back when, and I'd always like to return the favor. So be careful."

The other nodded, "I will."

"Good," Macavity said and slipped out.

Coricopat looked at the wine bottle, sighed before replacing the cork and vanishing it.  He fetched a book off of his shelf and settled in the chair against a far wall.

o-o-o-o

Pacing in annoyance and jittery nerves, Mistoffelees growled before sliding into the chair in front of the mirror. Hand skittering over the table in front of him he bit back a growl, picking up the brush and working on his hair, hoping that soothing that might be the first step to calming down.

His shoulders tensed when the door opened, seeing Martin through the mirror.

"Tell me you aren't getting attached," Martin said, leaning over his back, tangling one hand in Mistoffelees' shirt and drawing out the black jewel on its chain to watch it glitter in the mirror.

Mistoffelees huffed, slipping easily into the mask he'd worn for years. "Please. You know better than anyone I don't get attached."

"Then if your play is to seduce the Steward, you should go through with it, or go through with the task. Which is to kill who you're supposed to kill," Martin murmured into his ear, still watching the glint of the black jewel in the mirror.

Swallowing, Mistoffelees raised his hand carefully to continue brushing the waves out of his hair. "He's  not so simple to play."

"And you are a Warlord Prince," Martin murmured.

"You know, even better than I do, why this must move carefully," Mistoffelees said. "There's still Sadi in Kaeleer and the destruction of a Queen takes time," he said, unsure if he was lying or being truthful.

"Yes," Martin agreed, nuzzling his ear before yanking his head backward, ignoring Mistoffelees' yelp. "So I won't have to kill him," he said and before Mistoffelees could protest Martin slammed their mouths together.

Growling, Mistoffelees pushed him away, rising and turning, shoulders hunched slightly in a feral position. Martin laughed, tucking a strand of black hair behind Mistoffelees' ear. "You know better than anyone," Martin crooned, and a hint of fear entered Mistoffelees' eyes, causing him to look down.

"What you're capable of," he finished.

"No," Martin shook his head. "What you're capable of. But what I will do to him to keep you on track."

"He's a pawn," Mistoffelees replied. "Useful to seduce. That's all."

"That's certainly what I thought," Martin smiled, expression cold. Reaching toward Mistoffelees he pulled him forward to push him down on his knees, ignoring the fact that Mistoffelees' rooms were uncarpeted and the stone was cold.

Though Mistoffelees didn't mind. He preferred the times on his knees over when Martin threw him to the bed, pressing him against the sheets. He didn't mind giving Martin something, but hated when the Warlord got it in his head to attempt giving Mistoffelees pleasure as well. While after a century, Martin could play his body like an instrument it left him feeling chilled all the way through, ringing hallow in his entire body. At least he knew the forms, but when Martin plunged into him, he could only think about someone else who had once tried that, bitter pleasure in his chest for how much that would never happen again.

The worst times, to Mistoffelees, were when Martin would murmur soft words, tone affectionate until Mistoffelees listened to the words, when he had the Warlord Prince splayed out on his back, their eyes meeting.

Love was the furthest thing from their minds, battle of wills they always waged taken to bed with them, the act of a struggle in the space between them of rage and helplessness and cruel victory.  Whenever Martin got it into his head that one of the other of them deserved pleasure it only reminded Mistoffelees of the things he thought he'd once wanted and never found.

But with thoughts of Coricopat in his head, at least this time Martin wasn't trying to give him pleasure back. He just tried not to think about Coricopat either while he was on his knees.

o-o-o-o

It was well past midnight when Coricopat finally extinguished the lamps in his study and retired to his room.  He prepared for bed and gray-locked his chambers before attempting to actually get some sleep.  Twined in his dreams was a blurring of dark hair, darker jewels, and golden eyes.  Passion, desire, and the feel of skin on skin whirled through the Prince's mind.

Coricopat woke with a start as dawn's light was only just coloring the sky outside gray.  He lay still for a long time before realizing he wouldn't be returning to sleep which he convinced himself was for the best.  He rose and prepared for his day before leaving his chambers and slipping down to the kitchens to see if Jenny was awake yet, and if so if he could convince her to allow him an early breakfast.  Finding the kitchens deserted, and knowing better than to search the cupboards for anything he retreated to his study and closed himself in, using Craft to light the lamps that had so recently been put out.

Having woken up earlier than was even usual for him, Mistoffelees had been pacing the corridor in front of Coricopat's office, ducking around the corner when he heard someone approaching, watching Coricopat enter his office and waiting for a few more minutes before deciding he might as well and walking up to knock on the dark wood door.

The Steward startled, setting his book aside and rising to answer the door, "Mistoffelees?"  He blinked for a moment before backing up a step to allow the other passage, "Come in."

Wavering as if he might just throw the hat in and run away again, Mistoffelees slipped inside, fingers curled around the bottom of the black vest he wore over the white shirt buttoned up over his jewel. He'd gone through, putting make up on the circles under his eyes and looked presentable considering the time.

Coricopat closed the door softly, retreating to his chair even as he called in two glasses and a bottle of wine which he set to one side.  Having not expected to see anyone for some hours yet, he still looked caught between having stayed up all night and having just tumbled out of bed.  "What can I do for you?"

"I don't--are you doing alright?" Mistoffelees asked, peering first at him and then the wine.

"What?"  He frowned slightly before processing what might be meant, "Oh, yes, of course.  I just wasn't expecting to see anyone for another couple of hours."

"Right," Mistoffelees said with a frown. "You're up awfully early."

"I had difficulty sleeping," the other answered quietly, motioning to another chair.  "Won't you sit down?" Considering the chair, Mistoffelees finally sat, watching Coricopat. "You're up rather early yourself," the Steward remarked.  He hesitated, "Can I get you anything?"

"No," he replied, glancing at the wine and shaking his head.

Confusion flickered over Coricopat's features briefly, "Alright.  What...what brings you down here at this hour?"

Hesitating, Mistoffelees called in the book of Kindred's history onto Coricopat's desk in front of him. The Prince's brows rose sharply as he picked up the book, "Is that..."  He opened it, his grey eyes lighting up, "It is. Do you have any...I mean, I've spent...where did you find it?"  He raised his eyes from the book, a smile starting to form on his face.

Mistoffelees blinked, blushing slightly. "At a bookstore. I don't remember which one."

Coricopat ran a finger around the edge of the cover, opening the book again and tracing over the first page, his smile appearing in full force, "Thank you.  I...thank you."

"It's just a book," Mistoffelees said, softly, watching him, fingers twisting in his lap.

"It's a book I've been trying very hard, for probably far too long to get my hands on.  It's a perspective on the Blood that isn't written down, and one that is rarely even considered," Coricopat shook his head.  "It's, alright, to some extent it is just a book.  But at the same time..."

"But at the same time?" Mistoffelees asked, tilting his head slightly.

"At the same time, there's so much more to it than that."  He closed the book, "This is a way for people to, potentially, receive a glimpse at how the Kindred view the Blood and hopefully create an understanding with those who still don't truly comprehend the significance of the Kindred."

Mistoffelees shifted in the seat before looking at him again. "And you rather are interested in the Kindred then? Haven't they started withdrawing again?"

"Unfortunately, yes, they have started to withdraw again.  They just...I really don't know how to put it into words.  I was here in Kaeleer when they re-established contact with the human Blood.  I wasn't, I wasn't active in a court or with the Kindred at the time, but what was said about them at the time was enough to reach even those who weren't.  What was actually known about them, was scant at best, and the rumors, well they didn't...something felt off with them.  The Kindred are as much Blood as you or I, and the fact that people in some places refused to see that, it's...it's unthinkable in many ways."

For a long moment Mistoffelees just watched him. "I still don't think any Kindred have really come out in Terreille," he said finally.

Coricopat considered that for a long moment before shaking his head slightly, "No.  I don't imagine so.  Much, honestly much of the trouble for the Kindred here came from Little Terreille.  I mean, there was difficulty elsewhere as well, but the use of Acerian skins specifically comes to mind."

Mistoffelees blinked once, having no idea what Coricopat was referencing. "Or the place was too wracked as it was to accept something else," he said softly, trying not to compare Coricopat's memories of Kindred coming out of the shadows to the Laden uprisings that had thrown Tereille into more turmoil than it had been in after the purge.

The Gray-Jeweled Prince watched him for a moment before nodding.  Hesitating, he considered the book on the desk, "Would you care to read this?"

"What?" he asked, surprised. "No, it was a gift for you. Aren't you supposed to read it first?"

The Steward smiled faintly, "I didn't say I wouldn't.  But an initial read of this shouldn't take me too long in all honesty--later readings will probably be more in-depth.  Would you care to read it when I've finished?"

"I, I suppose," Mistoffelees said, still trying to shake memories and nightmares out of his head.

"Not that I'm not glad to see you, but what brought you here after you woke?  The book could have been delivered after sunrise," Coricopat spoke quietly, mildly confused by why the other hadn't retreated somewhere on his own as he had before.

Mistoffelees shrugged. "I heard someone in here."

"I see," he wasn't quite sure whether to be relieved or disappointed in that answer.

Mistoffelees took a deep breath, watching him again. "Truly?"

"I can see why that might induce you to knock, though no I still don't see why you came here rather than take one of the other halls, or go to the garden."

For a moment Mistoffelees just stared at him. "No idea at all?" he said and shook his head slightly, looking like he wanted to curl up in the seat. "If that's the case," he said and rose. "I'll leave you to whatever business you're attending."

Coricopat rose with him, "Mistoffelees, wait, please.  Are you saying you actually came down here for me or that you were in the hall when you heard me in here? Because that's where you've lost me."

"Does the answer matter?" Mistoffelees tried not to snap back.

"Well," he looked the other over and changed his answer mid-thought, "No, I suppose it doesn't. I'm glad you came here, truly I am, it caught me off-guard is all."  He looked at his desk briefly, "And I've no business to attend to at this hour, so there's no use either of us utilizing that excuse as a retreat."

Blinking, Mistoffelees crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyes to meet Coricopat’s "So what do you mean by that? If we're not retreating what do you suggest we do instead?"

"Well, we could try saying what we mean for once," Coricopat offered, his hands resting against the top of his desk as he leaned against it.

"You first then," Mistoffelees said, watching him with distrust. "What do you mean?"

Well, wasn't that just a terrifying question. "I care about you.  And it's growing stronger the more time I spend around you. I'm lost as to your presence here, because I don't want to risk reading too much into it and overstepping what is actually going on here between us, or what might be."

Feeling his stomach turn over Mistoffelees just continued to watch him, as he tried to sort out his thoughts, his face expressionless. "Do you realize how much of my nature you're asking me to go against?"

Coricopat focused his gaze on the other's eyes, though he really wanted to retreat from his words, "I do. And I'm not asking you to do anything. I'm just trying to figure out, with you aware of what I'm feeling, why you're here."

"I'm here because I couldn't sleep," he said and took a deep breath. "And because I wanted to see, well, you. And give you the book."

The dark-haired Steward finally dropped his gaze, his eyes lighting on the book and he bit back the first three or four things that came to mind, "Thank you for the book."

Mistoffelees nearly growled. "Why couldn't you sleep then?"

"Dreams," Coricopat answered.  "Not nightmares.  Just dreams."

"What sort of dreams would wake you up?" Mistoffelees asked.

The Prince considered how to answer that for a long moment before reminding himself that he was trying for honesty.  He looked up at the other again, "Ones involving you."

Mistoffelees appeared flabbergasted. "And they weren't... good dreams?"

"I didn't say they weren't good dreams," Coricopat shook his head.  "I said they were dreams."

"Except for the fact they seem to have scared you out of bed," Mistoffelees deadpanned back at him.

There was no response to that.  Except honesty.  He was regretting losing his retreat, "No, that would be my mind reminding me why it's a very bad idea to even consider starting to fall in love with a Warlord Prince."

"You're right," Mistoffelees managed, tone surprisingly mild. "It's a very bad idea. If you'll excuse me then?"

"It doesn't mean I don't want to or that I'm not," Coricopat murmured, sinking back down into his chair.  "Go on your way, it's...probably best if you do."

Before he could think about it, Mistoffelees snarled again. "Do you have a single firm thought in your head?"

The Steward looked up at him, eyes flashing, "At the moment I have one very clear, very firm thought.  I am falling in love with you though it might well be better for all concerned if I didn't."

"Then stick to what you want," Mistoffelees said, edge of snarl into his voice. "Stop trying to dodge it or dance around it and just--"

"And just what?"  Coricopat snapped, on his feet again, hands braced against the desk, "Just stick with it, let you know it, and watch you walk away from it?"

"Would you rather I tell you how terrified I am?" Mistoffelees asked. "Would that make you feel better to know?"

The Steward's jaw clenched and he bit his tongue to remind himself to think before he spoke, "No.  It would not make me feel better.  You wanted to know if I knew what I was asking of you.  I do.  Which is why I'm willing to back down if that's what you want.  But apparently you'd rather I not dodge that issue?  What do you want of me?"

"I don't know because I'm too damned scared to think straight," Mistoffelees replied, tone strained and more honest than he wanted to think about.

"Then what can I do to help you?" Coricopat lowered his voice, though there was something tense lurking in it.

"I don't," he started, voice only more strained. "What do you want of me then?"

"I want honesty. I want you to be able to figure out your thoughts one way or the other so we're not both caught in limbo." He paused for a long moment before continuing, "I want to be given the opportunity to court and be courted.  I want to be able to give you my heart without fear of the results. Do you want me to continue?"

"Yes," Mistoffelees said after a moment's hesitation.

Considering that answer for a brief moment, the other man nodded, "Alright.  I want you to be able to at least start to trust me with your heart and know I won't let it come to harm, nor will I let you come to harm so long as it is in my power to stop it," He hesitated, briefly thinking of how useless a sentiment that was when speaking to a Warlord Prince who was two Jewel levels darker than he was. "I want you, mind soul and body. And I want to give you myself, mind soul and body. I want to see you in the mornings, not because you've come to my study after waking up but because I've woken up beside you. I want to be able to sit and talk to you about whatever comes to our minds."

That shocked Mistoffelees even more than what had been originally said. "Why?" he blurted out and shook his head. "No, that's not, I mean..."

"You mean?"  Coricopat prompted, having no idea where to start in answering the question of 'why.'

"It's an impossible question to answer, why you feel something," Mistoffelees said, twisting the band with black jewel chips around his finger in agitation.

The other man nodded, "It is, yes.  Impossible to answer or not, it still remains true."

"I don't understand you," Mistoffelees said, voice quiet again.

"What--" He broke off, frowning slightly as he processed that, "What don't you understand?"

"Why you would want me," he said. "I know you said things about desire and I certainly know there's been people who desired the power rather than actually me but I can't figure out where you fit."

Coricopat weighed a few answers as he moved from behind the desk to lean a hip against the end of it instead, "You honestly don't understand how someone could desire you without the ulterior motive of wanting your power."  He felt anger spark in him at what the other man would have to have gone through for that to be his reaction.  "You're handsome, passionate, clever, thoughtful, and you have the most exquisite smile I think I've ever seen.  I'm sure there's more, I just haven't yet known you long enough to find it."

"My smile?" Mistoffelees repeated, hands lifting at his side to fall down again before taking a small step forward.

Nodding, the Prince moved forward slightly, so the desk was at his back, "Yes, your smile.  The way your lips curl and the way, when it briefly touches your eyes, your face seems to light up.  It doesn't reach your eyes very often."

“I couldn't imagine why not," Mistoffelees murmured, more to himself, eyes tracking Coricopat's as he moved closer.

Coricopat hesitated before he took a half step nearer the other, his hand moving up to trace briefly over Mistoffelees' cheekbone, "My hope is that it starts to do so more often."

Swallowing hard, Mistoffelees gave him a shaky smile. "Going to try your best to make that happen then?"

"If you'll let me," came the soft response.

"You can certainly try," he offered, tilting his head back further.

Pausing for another brief moment, the Gray-Jeweled Prince leaned down and kissed Mistoffelees.  He didn't press the kiss, kept no other contact with the other man beyond the hand on his cheek, but he tried to pour at least some part of what he felt for the Warlord Prince into the kiss.  There was room for Mistoffelees to retreat if he needed to, and the kiss didn't demand anything but rather remained an invitation.

For a moment Mistoffelees tried to allow that, a gentle kiss without pressure one way or another. But he couldn't keep himself from letting go of his sexual energy as the kiss progressed, growling softly into it and dragging Coricopat closer by the shoulders. Though he'd never been a pleasure slave and had no honed seduction techniques he had the deep sexuality of a Warlord Prince and he let that seep into the room around them.

Coricopat gasped slightly against the kiss, melting into it, his free hand moving to tangle in Mistoffelees' hair and he pressed into the kiss.  The sensual sexuality in the room caused his breath to catch as he leaned further down into the kiss.

Sucking in a breath Mistoffelees yanked back, eyes a little wild before he tried breathing again. Lowering his hands, Coricopat tried to catch his breath, his eyes wide and his pupils dilated.  His gaze flickered over Mistoffelees' face, seeking some sort of response that would tell him how to react.

Taking another shuddering breath Mistoffelees nuzzled back up, seeking what would hopefully be softer kisses, hands going back to Coricopat's waist.

One hand going to rest on Mistoffelees' shoulder and the other settling around his waist, Coricopat leaned down enough to ease the angle of the kiss, keeping it slow and gentle.

Making a quiet sound, Mistoffelees tilted his head back and nearly snarled as he pressed their bodies closer together. Coricopat's arm around Mistoffelees' waist tightened slightly, pulling them even nearer to one another as he deepened the kiss at the sound the other made.

Growling quietly Mistoffelees pulled his mouth away, glancing around the room as if judging the surfaces before leaning his forehead against Coricopat's and taking a breath, trying to step back from his reactions.

Coricopat drew a deep breath, not moving away at all, but found that was a bit of a mistake as all that did was cause him to breathe in Mistoffelees' scent, "Mother Night..."

"And Hell's Fire," Mistoffelees remarked, taking another breath.

The Prince nodded, his eyes wide as he tried to draw a breath that didn't make him want to kiss the other senseless, "That, we...Mother Night." He repeated.

Mistoffelees tried not to laugh at him. "Is that all?" he asked, managing somehow to tease.

Coricopat drew back enough to lean against his desk, trusting it to support him, "You want me coherent?"

Considering him, Mistoffelees smiled. "Maybe not. Maybe so."

He managed a shaky smile at that, considering the merits of the actual chair in front of the desk, "That was...more than I was expecting."

"I'm not saying we should talk," he managed. "Because we're not good at it. But we should figure something out," he added, a seduction tendril sneaking out before he could think about it. "Because right now I'm really considering the merits of shoving everything off that desk."

The other man's eyes glazed slightly as the tendril reached him, "We...we really should because I'm seriously considering the merits of letting you do that."

"Then start talking," Mistoffelees murmured, trying to draw his energy back.

"You want me to form a coherent sentence that doesn't end with us on the desk?"  He looked briefly skeptical before leaning down and kissing the other man once more, finally trusting his legs to support him as he drew back and started for the door.

"So if not ending on the desk where are you going?" Mistoffelees asked.

"My back this morning has objections to the idea of something that hard and solid," he responded by way of an answer.

"Which means going where?" Mistoffelees pressed, trying not to leap to conclusions that he wanted to leap to.

The Gray-Jeweled Prince looked back over his shoulder at Mistoffelees, "I have a perfectly comfortable bed one flight of stairs up."

Mistoffelees blinked at him, trying to swallow down the uprising of fear he felt at that. It was one thing to think about sleeping with someone, and it was another to talk about a quick lay on the desk, and entirely another to have an invitation to bed.

He didn't really like beds.

And he wasn't entirely sure anyone had ever kissed him like Coricopat had. Hesitating, he took an almost shaking step forward.

Coricopat paused in the doorway, turning fully to look back at the other. Studying him for a moment, the grey gaze took in the hesitation, the slight shift in posture, "I've said before and I'll say again, I won't ask anything of you that you're not ready for."  The force of will it took to say those words surprised him, but he had promised himself that anything that happened with Mistoffelees would be as much on the other's say-so as based in his own desires.

Mistoffelees barked out a laugh that tried to get rid of the some of the bitterness in his heart. "You're the most accommodating person who's ever asked rather than dragged me along. It's just," he took a calming breath, reminding himself about honesty. "I don't much like beds, usually."

Coricopat's eyebrows twitched upward very slightly at that, but he nodded, "No beds then."  His gaze flickered around his study and paused on a back corner of the room, "What of couches?"

Mistoffelees seriously considered the couch for a moment and took a deep breath. "You can always tempt me toward the bed."

Taking a step nearer to the Warlord Prince, Coricopat looked him over and murmured, "You're sure?"

The corners of his mouth twitched. "You can try it. I'm sure there are other couches."

He placed a hand on Mistoffelees' cheek and offered him a long, languid kiss.  Coricopat allowed his desire to thread into the kiss and twine about the two of them before he drew back slightly, "There are, yes."

"Alright," Mistoffelees said, pushing back against the kiss and holding on there.

Coricopat's arm slid around Mistoffelees' waist as he responded to the kiss before drawing back, "The desk is looking tempting again if we stay here much longer."

"Then you can start walking," Mistoffelees teased, not drawing back, his breath brushing Coricopat's mouth as he talked.

The taller man shuddered slightly at that, his breath hitching, even as he took a half step back from Mistoffelees, the better to lead the way out of the study and up the stairs. Mistoffelees followed him closely as he moved, not quite tangling their feet together but it was a careful dance.

They reached the door to Coricopat's chambers, somehow, and the he leaned down to kiss Mistoffelees again as he fumbled with the handle on the door, finally giving up and using Craft to open it and light the lamps within. That got a laugh out of Mistoffelees as he paused, finally releasing Coricopat to look around.

The room was simple without being plain, dark green curtains hung at the windows and a rug of a matching green, struck with grey and brown, covered a large part of the floor.  Tapestries covered a decent portion of the wall space, except where the furniture stood.  The bed was pushed into one of the corners and a wardrobe stood opposite it.  There was a decent sized chair next to a cold fireplace and a single floor to ceiling bookshelf.  Four lamps were set in the wall, one on a small table by the bed, and another near the chair by the fireplace.  Coricopat closed the door gently behind them, moving away from it so that it was still a retreat.

Mistoffelees looked around, stepping forward to touch one of the tapestries and look at the curtains before turning to look back at him. "It's amazing what you can see from a room."

Coricopat felt uncertainty rise in him at that, but he covered it up, "And what can you see from this one?"

He looked around again and smiled at Coricopat, the expression reaching his eyes. "It's comfortable," he said softly. "It feels lived in, despite the fact your office is even more so."

Returning the smile with a genuine one of his own, Coricopat shook his head, "Well, I suppose that makes some sense considering how much time I spend in one space or the other."

"You should get out more," Mistoffelees said with a wry smile before looking at the door. "I can red lock it," he offered, thinking of Martin and pausing but not wanting to trap Coricopat in the room through a black lock.

Coricopat's mind flickered through the jewel strengths in the palace and he hesitated, "Or I can gray lock it as I usually do." Mistoffelees nodded, treading carefully around an unspoken offer to black lock it and keep Martin out no matter what, though he didn't want to bring the other up.

Pausing before he actually put the lock in place, Coricopat spoke again, "Of course if you're...well, willing to black lock we won't have to worry about anyone." It was strange to have to think about someone possibly getting past his gray locks.

"Wouldn't that worry you?" Mistoffelees asked, chin going back as he stepped toward Coricopat again.

"Not as much as perhaps it should," the other replied softly.

"You'd be trapped with me," Mistoffelees pointed out, reaching a hand out to rest on Coricopat's chest, very close to where his jewel hung, if he was wearing one.

Coricopat drew an unsteady breath, but forced himself not to step back when the other came close to brushing the gray pendant he wore in addition to his ring, "I would be. And everyone else would be locked out and unable to do much to stop what you wished even if you didn't lock it. Am I concerned about that situation? Only a fool would enter that with no qualms. But would it be that much safer with a lighter jewel's lock?"  His gaze moved from Mistoffelees' face to where his hand rested on his chest.

"Martin Smith is a heavy sleeper, which is a surprise, but he wouldn't even be awake now," Mistoffelees replied, hating the fact he knew that.

Before he could think about that statement or the connotations therein, Coricopat nodded once and dropped a gray lock around the room. The corner of Mistoffelees' mouth twitched and he added a black aural shield around the room to keep sound contained.

Coricopat arched an eyebrow, but nodded slightly again at the addition of the aural shield. He closed his eyes briefly, drawing a deep breath to clear his mind and focus on the room and the other person within the room rather than any concerns or thoughts regarding those outside.  His grey eyes opened again and his shoulders relaxed from where he hadn't realized they'd tensed up.

Mistoffelees smiled faintly at him. "Feeling better?" he asked, voice dropping almost down to a purr.

Lips curling upward into something that was a little more smile than smirk, Coricopat inclined his head, "Oh a great deal."

Mistoffelees let out a huffed breath, leaning up for another kiss before he thought of anything else. Automatically wrapping an arm around Mistoffelees' waist, Coricopat leaned down into the kiss. Practically purring again, Mistoffelees pressed into the kiss, fingers curling around Coricopat's waistband as he tilted his head back further.

Humming against the kiss, Coricopat trailed his free hand down Mistoffelees' side to his hip, massaging small circles there even as he pulled the smaller man more firmly against him.

Drawing back just slightly, Mistoffelees considered him before his hands reached up, focused for a moment on undoing the buttons on his shirt, placing a small kiss on his collarbone. Coricopat tilted his head back slightly and to the side, to allow Mistoffelees better access.  His eyes hooded, he let his hands drift around, never quite removing the touch, until he could begin to work on the buttons of Mistoffelees' vest. Feeling his hold on his sexual heat slip again, Mistoffelees moaned softly and started dragging Coricopat's shirt off his shoulders, yanking him back in for another kiss.

Coricopat went willingly into the kiss, his fingers still working at the vest buttons before he ran his hands up, over the shirt and under the vest to remove it, never breaking the almost desperate kiss he offered as a response to Mistoffelees.

Rolling his shoulders to get the vest off faster, Mistoffelees slammed back upwards, almost trying to climb up Coricopat like a tree and feeling along his bare shoulders. Fingers finding the top button of Mistoffelees' shirt and beginning the process of removing that as well, Coricopat pressed insistently into the kiss, nipping very slightly at Mistoffelees' lower lip.

For a moment the kiss distracted Mistoffelees enough he didn't even notice that his jewel was now exposed to the air against his chest.

Coricopat released the last of the buttons, trailing his hands up over either side of Mistoffelees' chest and down his arms, taking the shirt with them.  He traced his hands around Mistoffelees' side and up the other's back, pausing when his left hand brushed what felt like scar tissue.

Having been lost in a haze of pleasure, Mistoffelees snapped out of it, tensing in the circle of Coricopat's arm and forgetting to breath a moment. Drawing his hand away from the scar, Coricopat leaned back just enough to be able to look the smaller man in the eye, "Mistoffelees?"

"Yes?" he asked, back stiff as his voice.

Weighing the merits of asking against what it might cost, he shook his head, moving both hands away from Mistoffelees' back, resting them gently on his waist, but allowing him the ability to pull back away if he needed, "So no touch to your back then."

Sucking in a deep breath, Mistoffelees' eyes snapped up to him. "What?"

"You have scars.  You don't want them touched, I assume you don't want them seen or spoken of?"

"You aren't curious?" Mistoffelees blurted in confusion.

Coricopat studied him for another moment, "Of course I'm curious.  That doesn't mean I have to ask, nor does it mean I will.  That's your secret to explain if or when you choose to."

Mistoffelees' golden eyes widened and he stared at him in shock, incoherent before he finally breathed again. "No one's not pressed it before," he murmured.

"We all have secrets, there's no reason to search out everyone's," Coricopat replied, leaning down to nuzzle against Mistoffelees' jawline, placing a soft kiss there.

Jaw working, Mistoffelees took another shuddering breath before slamming into another kiss, bending his neck backwards to better press against Coricopat's chest. Coricopat's breath caught at that, but he wrapped an arm around Mistoffelees' back, lower than the point where he'd brushed the scar, and pulled him as close as their current position allowed.

Hands pulling at Coricopat's shoulder, Mistoffelees ignored the clank as Coricopat's Jewel tangled with his chain, they were pressed together so tightly. "I think I could be convinced of a bed," he managed finally, somehow fighting down the automatic panic that idea always produced in him.

Gaze darting over Mistoffelees face, Coricopat nodded once, leaning down to capture the other's lips again as he guided them across the room to the bed until the back of Mistoffelees' legs hit the edge of the mattress.

Sitting down, Mistoffelees paused, rather than pulling Coricopat down with him he used his seated position to pull at the ties of Coricopat's pants. Breath catching at that, Coricopat slid his hands over Mistoffelees' sides to work at the laces of Mistoffelees' pants, even as he leaned over to offer a passionate kiss to the smaller man.

Mistoffelees leaned back as much as he could without laying back to make the kiss more comfortable, fingers shaking slightly as he yanked Coricopat's pants off and pushed him back to stand enough to kick his own off.

Coricopat leaned in kissing Mistoffelees' throat, his hands tracing down the smaller man's sides.  He slowly knelt, trailing nipping kisses down the other's torso as he did so, placing the last kiss on the inside of Mistoffelees' left thigh.

Mistoffelees glanced down in shock at that, mouth dropping. "What're you--?"

Coricopat's grey eyes moved upward to look at Mistoffelees' face, the Prince hesitating, "Are you really asking that?"

"Yes?" he offered, before sitting back down on the bed.

Rocking back on his heels, Coricopat watched the other man for a moment and trying to figure out how to actually answer that and deciding that there was no room for modesty this far into the situation, "Well, I was going to suck your cock, but if you would rather I didn't..."

Blinking once and half surprised by the bluntness of that statement coming from Coricopat, Mistoffelees' shoulders shivered remembering Martin. "Not now," he said, shaking his head slightly and pulling Coricopat back up to kiss him.

Coricopat's brief flash of confusion was almost palpable, but he set it aside and leaned into the kiss, one hand resting on the edge of the bed to brace himself. Wrapping his legs around Coriocpat's waist Mistoffelees strained up into the kiss, focusing on the touch of Coricopat's skin and not any memories.

A soft moan rising in his throat, Coricopat shifted nearer, leaning over enough to actually lay Mistoffelees back on the bed.

Shifting his shoulders against the bed he focused on the kiss for a moment before considering the position they were in. Feeling panic rise in his chest now that he was thinking about being on his back instead of the kiss, Mistoffelees pushed Coricopat's shoulders until he'd rolled them over, sinking back into the kiss.

Coricopat blinked at the reverse in their positions, but he didn’t protest, arching his neck up to deepen the kiss as his arms tightened around the other to pull him even closer.

Mistoffelees laughed at that, pulling back to nuzzle against where Coricopat's neck met his shoulder, bracing himself on his hands on either side of Coricopat's head.

Tilting his head back to allow Mistoffelees better access to his throat, Coricopat let his eyes flutter shut as he took in the sensation of the other's skin.  Grey eyes opened again, pupils dilated and focused on Mistoffelees.  His hand ghosted over the smaller man's side, stopping to massage his hip.

"Do you want me?" Mistoffelees murmured, breathing into Coricopat's ear.

"Hellsfire, Mistoffelees," Coricopat managed.  "Yes."

"Good," Mistoffelees rumbled, smiling against the shell of his ear before leaning back, resting his hands on Coricopat's chest and looking down at him, head tilted slightly to one side. Coricopat drew an unsteady breath as his gaze swept over the other, hands still resting on Mistoffelees' hips

For a long moment Mistoffelees just watched him, wondering if he wanted to risk Coricopat's type of speech again or not. "Well, having me what would you do?" he asked, Jewel hanging on a chain around his neck still.

With Mistoffelees above him and the desire twining and twisting through him as the focus of his concentration it took a moment for Coriopat to manage anything coherent, "I would make love to you, and not just in the physical sense." Alright, semi-coherent.  He tried to formulate an explanation of what that meant, but his attention to that was all but shot to Hell.

"What?" Mistoffelees managed, staring down at him in shock. "Is that even possible?" he added.

"Do you recall the mind soul and body thing I mentioned earlier? Lovers, and making love isn't tied only to the physical."  One hand moved up to brush against Mistoffelees' cheek, "I desire you, and want you, but not just this." The hand still resting on Mistoffelees' hip slid up and down the Warlord Prince's side for a moment.

"Then what else do you want?" he asked, shifting his hips into the touch and trying not to panic at the thought of being asked to let Coricopat through any of his mental barriers. Because the Blood could communicate telepathically and share emotions and memories but he'd keep his barriers clamped down so hard over the last few decades he couldn't imagine reopening them to anyone.

"Shh," Coricopat soothed, his hand tracing circles on Mistoffelees' hip again, "A lover.  I'm not asking you to open yourself to me, but to," he paused briefly at the thought, "but to let me let you in.  To not let this be a one-time thing."

"Did you think it would be?" Mistoffelees asked, curious as he leaned forward to kiss Coricopat's throat before leaning back again.

Coricopat tilted his head back again, pausing perhaps a moment too long before responding, "Not really."

Offering him a smile Mistoffelees hesitated only for a moment more before calling in a small bottle of oil he kept with him in case of emergency than because he ever really planned on using it before dropping it into Coircopat's hand.

Coricopat startled slightly at that, blinking at the bottle for a long moment before drawing his gaze back to Mistoffelees, "Which...?"

Smirking slightly Mistoffelees pressed back against him. "Me, if you're up for it."

Drawing a sharp breath at that, Coricopat curled his lips into a mirroring smirk, "I think that is certainly viable."  He paused for a brief moment before opening the bottle and pouring some of the oil onto his hand, warming it to body temperature and sealing the bottle again.

His eyebrows going up, Mistoffelees laughed softly at that, pushing the bottle further up the pillow and hopefully out of the way. "I'm sure you can handle it," he said, teasing to break some of the tension he could feel building between them.

Coricopat chuckled, the sound settling deep in his chest, and spread the oil to his fingers. Continuing to massage Mistoffelees' hip with his left hand, he let his right one slip around behind the smaller man, and the tip of his finger circled the smaller man's entrance before easing inside.

Shifting his hips, Mistoffelees could feel the chains holding his control start to break and he threw up a second black shield around the room before power started leaking down the hall. "Move faster," he managed, hint of snarl in his voice as he braced his hands on either side of Coricopat's Jewel.

He drew a sharp breath at both the snarl and the proximity to his Jewel as he slid another finger in.  He felt the second shield go up and scissor his fingers, bringing them together again and sliding them further in, gaze focused on the Warlord Prince above him.

"No one else needs to feel this," Mistoffelees said, voice somewhere between a snarl still and a whine, referring to the shield off Coricopat's expression, control slipping again and feeling his sexual heat seep into the room. Deciding it was time to move on, he pulled off Coricopat's hand, arranging them with shaking hands.

"No, they don't," Coricopat managed to agree.  He held himself still, muscles quivering, as Mistoffelees lowered himself onto him.  Tilting his head back and exposing his throat again, his breathing grew ragged at the sexual heat sweeping around them.

Mistoffelees stopped moving for a moment, focusing just on breathing before leaning down to nip at the exposed throat. "Ready?" he managed to remember to ask.

Coricopat tilted his head up enough to give Mistoffelees a biting kiss before nodding, "Yes."

"Good," he said, heat leaking into his voice and almost turning it into a purr.

The Gray-Jeweled Prince arched up enough to kiss the other again, his hand moving to curl around Mistoffelees' cock, stroking slowly. Shaking, Mistoffelees pushed back again, hands on Coricopat's chest to give himself leverage. "You--" he started and bit the bottom of his lip, breath catching.

Coricopat gasped slightly at that, "I-I?"

Sliding his arms out toward the top of the bed, Mistoffelees panted near the Prince's collarbone, working his hips up and down. "You're very," he tried again, unsure what he wanted to say. "Mother Night."

Moaning, his hips twitching, his free hand moving to massage the other's balls, "I-I'll accept that."

Snarling again, Mistoffelees' hands twisted in the pillow, arching his back. As he moved, his Jewel dangled from his neck, hitting against Coricopat's chest. Coricopat closed his eyes briefly arching upward, aware of the Black Jewel brushing against his chest, every sense accentuated.

"Do you want me?" Mistoffelees repeated, tilting his head to meet Coricopat's eyes, something behind the repeated question.

Holding the other’s gaze, he nodded, "With everything I am."

The groan that came out of Mistoffelees sounded like it had been shoved out of him, and he pressed up to press an open mouthed kiss on Coricopat's mouth, panting against the touch. Coricopat's lips parted, his tongue slipping into Mistoffelees' mouth, his hips thrusting upward.

Leaning back enough to meet Coricopat's eyes again, Mistoffelees groaned, looking at him. "You're gorgeous," he purred, heat in his voice.

His eyes widened at that, "I...Hellsfire, Mistoffelees." Snarling softly in possession, Mistoffelees nipped at his exposed throat, hands moving closer to Coricopat's head.

Coricopat's breath caught at the sound, a smile falling into place on his features.  He hadn't felt this wanted, this desired in a very long time.

“You want me?" Mistoffelees said, still rolling his rips with hint of snarl still in everything he was saying, sexual tension rolling around the room and coming back toward them. "Then come for me."

Back arching, the Prince cried out as he came, lights bursting behind his eyes. Mistoffelees eased him through it, smiling and stilled before pulling off Coricopat, smoothing a hand over his hair.

Coricopat's eyes fluttered at the touch as he returned to himself.  He focused himself as best he was able, turning his attention to Mistoffelees' pleasure. Rolling over to his side, Mistoffelees watched him for a moment before rolling further onto his back, eyes seeking Coricopat's.

Turning onto his side and tracing a hand down Mistoffelees' chest, Coricopat kept his gaze locked with the other's. "How're you feeling?" Mistoffelees asked, breath catching again.

"More relaxed than I've been in years," he answered, tracing patterns lightly down Mistoffelees' torso and finally trailing his fingers over the smaller man's prick.  "Wanting to reciprocate in some way."

Biting his lower lip again Mistoffelees lifted his hips. "If you wanted," he said, confusion flickering in the back of his eyes.

Coricopat's lips curled into a smile as he shifted to trail kisses down Mistoffelees' body where his fingers had been moments before.  Pausing before actually touching his cock, he spoke and allowed his breath to ghost over the sensitive skin, "May I?"

For a moment Mistoffelees froze, but was more comfortable with the idea now that no one was on their knees. "Yes," he rasped out.

Smiling again, Coricopat kissed the head of Mistoffelees' prick before swirling his tongue around it and taking Mistoffelees in his mouth.  It had been a while since he'd come close to this, and he was careful not to think about that time even as he remembered the actions that would be most likely to get a response.

Knees drawing up slightly Mistoffelees let his head drop back, loosing himself in that careful pleasure and trying not to think too hard about how soft everything felt, and how surprisingly gentle it was. Instead he loosed himself to the pleasure, passion swirling around the room and rebounding from his black shields. "Cor--" he started to say before losing complete control.

Coricopat's eyes glazed at the passion between them, repressing his gag reflex and taking the other deeper.  His gaze locked on the other man's features, taking some measure of pride at the fact that he could cause such a reaction.

Arching his back one more time with a short cry, Mistoffelees collapsed back onto the bed, feeling particularly boneless. Swallowing before drawing back and licking a few remaining drops from Mistoffelees' cock, Coricopat moved up the bed again, stretching out beside the Warlord Prince.  His eyes half-lidded, he studied the man in his bed, resting his head on his curled arm.

Calming his breathing, Mistoffelees dropped the second shield he'd thrown up, leaving the aural one in place and hoping no one had noticed the dark storm of power as he shivered, residue of passion still swirling around the room.

Coricopat reached down, pulling the top sheet up over them without really thinking about it, his attention still primarily focused on the other man.  He drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly, "Mother Night."

Mistoffelees considered him a moment longer in silence. "Is that all?" he asked, almost teasing.

"I'm still finding coherent thoughts," Coricopat admitted.

Mistoffelees could feel a small frown starting between his eyebrows. "Still?"

He reached over and gently brushed a lock of Mistoffelees' hair back, "There's so many of them that they keep getting jumbled."

"Where are they jumbled?" he asked, tilting his head and hesitating before he reached forward, curling a hand around Coricopat's hips, unsure what to do with having someone so close after sex.

Blinking slightly at the touch, Coricopat's lips curled upward slightly, "Because something as passionate as that will cause confusion in my mind usually."

Mistoffelees considered, a faint smile curling the corners of his mouth. "Really?" he asked, actually surprised and sort of wishing he wasn't.

"Yes, really. Especially when it's someone I care about."

The smile disappeared and frown reappeared between one heartbeat and the next."Oh," he said, withdrawing his hand and sitting up, glancing toward the window where full light was coming into the room.

Confusion flickered over Coricopat's features and he propped himself up on one elbow," Mistoffelees?  What did I say?"

"Nothing," he murmured, hands in his lap as he glanced back down to Coricopat.

"And I would believe that if it wasn't such a blatant lie.  What's wrong?"

Mistoffelees glanced down at him, snarling once before shaking his head again. "You keep pushing things, don't you?"

The Gray-Jeweled Prince frowned in response, trying to avoid snapping, "What have I pushed this time?"

"Nothing," he started to say and hesitated, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. When he leaned forward, he gave Coricopat probably the clearest view of his back the other had. "I just don't," he started to say and shook his head, unwilling to continue.

Starting to pursue that, Coricopat sat up fully as he caught sight of the three long scars on Mistoffelees' back, his entire train of thought changing, "Who did this?"

"What?" Mistoffelees turned his head from where it was resting on his knees, confused by his own thoughts and what Coricopat was asking before freezing as he registered the question.

Jaw tensing, Coricopat's eyes hardened as they traced over the obvious whip marks, "Who did this?"

The expression in Mistoffelees' eyes shut off so fast it was like he slammed a door. "It doesn't matter."

"Are they dead?" Coricopat's tone dropped dangerously.

"Yes," he replied quietly, thinking about Martin dropping her heart next to her on the floor and the glazed expression of shock in her eyes and shuddering. He'd seen horrible things before, and worse after but that memory in particular always stood out to him.

Coricopat relaxed ever so slightly, though his expression was still dark, "Good."

Glancing back at him, Mistoffelees frowned slightly, unsure how to feel about that reaction. "Over a century," he added, wishing that pulling the sheet over his back wouldn't make it look obvious.

Gaze moving to Mistoffelees' face he, lifted the sheet in such a way to drape it over the other man's shoulders even as he fought his emotions back into order, "You were in Terreille then."

Mistoffelees blinked in shock at him before nodding slightly, rolling his shoulder to adjust the sheet better as he turned to Coricopat. "Yes. Before I made the Offering and before the Purge."

He reached up and gently brushed a hand over Mistoffelees' hair again, "Were you born there, in Terreille I mean?"

"Yes, in Dhemlan," he said, voice soft as he considered before tilting his head into the touch. "Things were bad but," he started and couldn't figure out how he might end the sentence.

Coricopat considered whether he wanted to hear any sort of end to that sentence and decided that it wasn't necessary.  He drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he reminded himself to calm down further.

"No," Mistoffelees said, looking at the wall instead of the other person in bed. "There's no but really. I can't even call that place home."

"Have you ever had a place you _could_ call home?"  The question slipped out before he caught it.

"No," Mistoffelees replied, not even hesitating to think about it.

He paused for a moment before asking the next question, "Have you ever tried to find one?"

"What kind of question is that?" Mistoffelees asked, turning back to look at him.

"One that perhaps didn't convey quite what I meant.  I'm not entirely sure what I was asking, except..." he paused, trying to find a way to say it and still feeling like he was unable to convey what he was thinking, "have you ever tried to actually settle somewhere and make it a home?"

"Have I tried?" he said and thought about one cottage that they had stayed at once, when Tumble had just joined them, and that had views of the mountains around them and a small stream and a tiny village a short walk away. Martin had burned it to the ground when they left. "No," he said. "That's not the same as ever wanting to though."

"What..." He stopped, shaking his head and deciding that that was not a question that it was time to ask.

Mistoffelees glanced at him, something lurking behind his expression. "Finish the question," he said softly. "You've asked enough other ones."

Coricopat paused before finally asking the question, "What would it take for you to actually try?"

His frown deepened. "That's asking me what I want out of a home, of a place to stay."

The other man dropped his gaze, nodding slightly, "Yes, in essence."

"I," he started and let out a long breath. "I wouldn't even know where to begin. Or what to look for."

"But if, if you found it you'd stay there?"

“I'd try to," Mistoffelees amended. "If I could."

Coricopat relaxed almost imperceptibly at that, nodding, "I hope you find it, and can stay where it appears."

For a while Mistoffelees just stared at him. "Have you found it?"

"I have a home here," he responded by way of answer. "Whether it has everything I think a home should doesn’t matter, because it still is home."

"Than what more do you want of it?" Mistoffelees asked, feeling justified considering how much he had already opened up.

"Someone to share it with.  Someone I love who loves me as well," Coricopat answered, drawing a knee up to his chest and resting his arm on it.

Mistoffelees blinked at him before looking away. "I hope you find it then."

"It's a rare thing to both find and keep," his mind brought up memories of the last man he'd taken to bed and how little time that had lasted, but he shook his head to clear it and let his gaze drift to one of the lamps on the wall.

Barely managing not to ask the other if he wanted to keep him, Mistoffelees rolled his shoulders again before stretching his arms out above his head, entire body elongating in the motion.

Coricopat's gaze returned to Mistoffelees at that motion, tracing over the stretch of his muscles, "Hells fire, Mistoffelees, you're absolutely gorgeous."

Startling and blushing, Mistoffelees glanced over before a slow smile curved across his face. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to make it lay flatter. "Now you say that."

Smiling, Coricopat reached over and ran a hand over Mistoffelees' hair to help him smooth it as best as possible, "I thought it before, for what that's worth."

"It's worth something," he admitted, hoping that they wouldn't go back to the original conversation topic and glancing out the window. "It's day," he murmured.

His attention drawn to the window at that, the Steward sighed, "Does that mean we ought to get up and interact with other people?"

"Possibly," Mistoffelees said. "Unless you have another idea."

“Besides not getting up and spending the day curled up here?" He offered.

"Well," Mistoffelees considered. "Wouldn't people notice?"

"Probably," the other admitted.  "So if you mind that, we could certainly get up."

"You're the Steward," Mistoffelees pointed out. "Do you mind?"

"I've no work that must be done today, and Griddlebone's been after me to take a day to relax for weeks," Coricopat answered.

"And this is relaxing?" Mistoffelees asked, letting go of just a tendril of seduction.

Coricopat's lips curled upward and he tilted his head back slightly at the touch of the seduction, "Actually, yes."

"I thought it was making you incoherent," Mistoffelees purred, moving forward and deciding that Coricopat tilting his head back was the perfect opportunity to lean in and kiss the exposed skin there again.

Coricopat shivered at that touch, "You think incoherence means that I'm not relaxed?"

"Maybe not," he amended, tongue running along Coricopat's neck, one hand bracing himself on the other's shoulder.

Eyes fluttering closed, Coricopat slipped an arm around the smaller man's waist, drawing him closer, "We may eventually have to see about food."

"Maybe they'll leave some for us," Mistoffelees said, smirking.

"Still involves movement away from the bed," Coricopat protested softly, tilting his head back further.

"Later then," Mistoffelees smirked, leaning up to capture his mouth again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's something to be said of the awkwardness of co-writing sex


	7. How Aren't You Our Business?

A short while later Jemima approached Coricopat's door, expression dark since she couldn't find the Steward or their latest addition and worried something had happened to one or the other. The web she'd weaved late last night had worried her, as it showed some sort of choice and she had no clue to what it was.

Approaching Coricopat's door and raising her hand to knock she froze before her skin touched the door. Through the wood she could feel the power swirling and blushed when the pleasure seeped through. "Well, that solves that," she murmured, hand moving down to her side.

Teazer came down the hall, pausing when she saw her teacher, "Jemima?  Did you find Coricopat?"

"Well," she hesitated, fluffing the bottom of her curly red hair. "Yes. He's certainly in here."

Her apprentice's brows rose, "Is he coming out for breakfast?"

"No," she said, tilting her head. "You should probably get some food to leave for them."

"Them?  And, wait, why am I getting the food?"  Her gaze darted to the bedroom door.

"Because you are the younger and frankly all that power in there would knock me flat if I knocked on the door," Jemima replied. "But yes, them."

"O-okay, I'll go down and get the food then."  She shot another look at the door and headed for the back stairs to go down to the kitchen.

Jemima considered the door once again before shrugging and heading for the dining room, where everyone else would be arriving for breakfast.

Tumble entered the breakfast room, moving to the side table and quickly dishing up his breakfast, planning to eat and leave before Martin arrived. Sweeping inside Jemima looked around the room and sat down beside Tumblebrutus again, picking delicately at food in the middle of the table.

The Purple-Dusk Warlord glanced at her, offering a faint smile, "Good morning."

"Morning," she replied, sounding more cheerful than she usually did in the morning. "So, what sort of fall out might we possibly expect from Mistoffelees sleeping with people who are not Martin?"

He just about choked on the bite of fruit he was in the process of swallowing, "Expect from what?"

"Well, there were some jealous possessive vibes coming off him so I'm curious," she said, delicately sipping at her coffee.

"It...I-I don't know.  Mistoffelees, well," he paused, took a drink of water and tried to restart what he was saying.  "I don't know.  Th-they're kind of a-always in a strange place."

"Strange place?" she asked, looking at him over the rim of her cup.

"Th-they're hard to explain. B-but that question about death you asked y-yesterday became m-maybe more probable."

She sighed. "Well that's not good. And I was so hopeful this would work out only for the best."

"Wh-who's he sleeping with?"  He had a pretty solid guess, but wanted it confirmed.

"So far as I can tell without true confirmation, Coricopat the Steward."

Tumblebrutus paled slightly at that, "And he wears the Gray, r-right?"

Jemima nodded, watching him closely. "Will that be of issue?"

"Well, it, it puts him on par with M-Martin, which could be seen as more of a threat."

Twisting her mouth, Jemima considered him. "So that doesn't sound like a very good idea."

Tumble dropped his gaze, shaking his head, "It...it might go better than I'm making it out, but I d-don't know."

She considered him a moment. "Are you sure of anything?" she asked, sounding curious.

"I'm sure I like this court," he offered.

"Really?" she asked, brows going up in surprise. "See, I'm not even sure about that most days."

"I've only been here for t-two," he responded, frowning slightly.  "Besides, it's not w-worth getting attached to a court."

"But you said you liked it," she said, frowning now rather than bantering.

He pushed his food around on his plate for a moment before replying softly, "That doesn't mean we're going to stay."

"Well, would you like to stay?" Jemima found herself asking.

"It doesn't matter if I would or not," Tumble insisted.

"But the question remains, even hypothetically," she pointed out, setting aside her cup to actually start in on the food before her.

He looked at her, blinking as though not entirely sure what to do with questions regarding his opinion and wants, "Well, I mean, if I could then yes."

Jemima offered him a blinding smile. "Then, how about trying to stay?"

He offered her an uncertain smile in response, "It...it's not that simple."

"Well, of course not because nothing is," she shrugged. "But things have a way of happening, if you're willing to pay the price for them."

"It's that price I'm worried about."

"Well," she said, looking at him again over the food she was eating. "Then you decide what's worth paying things for."

He offered her a ghost of a smile, "I'll see if I find something here."

"Good," she declared with a firm nod and glanced up as Griddlebone and Sonya entered, the later looking somewhat ruffled for the morning.

Griddlebone offered the two already there a bright smile, "Morning all."  Her gaze swept around the room and she arched an eyebrow, "Has Cori eaten already?"

“No, but I sent Teazer with food for him," Jemima replied primly.

The Queen's lips curled upward at that as she sat down, "And would that be to his study?"

"Bedroom, actually," Jemima replied, suppressing the grin she wanted to give as Sonya glanced over at her in shock.

"Is he ill?" the consort asked.

Griddlebone glanced at Tumblebrutus who dropped his gaze quickly, a blush rising to his cheeks.  The Queen grinned, putting a hand on her Consort's arm, "I'm going to take a guess and say that he's otherwise occupied."

Sonya blinked at her before realization dawned and he sighed. "This is just going to create more problems," he muttered, going for the toast.

She let her smile fade a bit at that, looking at Jemima, "Do we know how much of a problem it will create?"

"Depends on how inclined Martin or Coricopat is to murder, apparently," she replied, still serene in the face of the whole issue.

The Queen's brows shot up at that, "Well, we'll have to see what we can do to avoid either of them ending up dead then."

Teazer wandered in at about that moment, sitting down next to Jemima, her eyes a little glazed, "Why did you have me take the food up again?"

"Because better you than me," she replied, handing her student a cup of coffee. "How are you feeling?"

Taking a drink of coffee, the younger woman shook her head, "That was... exciting. Why didn't you tell me not to knock on the door?"  She half hoped that Macavity wouldn't be down to breakfast before she could leave considering the state she was in.

"Oh," Jemima managed and Sonya gave her a half alarmed look. "I thought I had."

"Not really," she shook her head, finally feeling herself settling down as she finished her coffee, which Griddlebone refilled for her. Macavity chose that moment to stroll inside, having already gone through several morning warm up routines. Rumpleteazer's gaze darted in that direction and she swallowed hard.  Picking up a couple of pieces of fruit and two slices of toast, she got to her feet and hurried out of the room.

"I didn't do anything," Macavity protested, automatically assuming everyone was going to blame him as he watched her flee. "Did I? What just happened?"

Griddlebone shook her head, drawing her gaze away from the door to look at Macavity, "No, you didn't do anything.  She's in a bit of a tizzy."

"Well then how did she get into a tizzy without me being here?" Macavity protested, drawing meat toward him as Sonya suppressed an eye roll.

Tumblebrutus coughed at that to hide what might have been a laugh at Macavity's tone.  Griddlebone suppressed a bit of a smile and glanced at Jemima for confirmation, "Extra uncontained power would be my guess?"

"What sort?" he asked in curiosity, head titled.

"Sexual, most like," Jemima replied blandly.

Raising his eyebrows fractionally, Tumble glanced at Jemima.  How she could deliver lines like that and ask some of the questions she did without hardly an outward sign of what she was thinking was beyond him.  Turning her attention back to her food, Griddlebone nodded slightly, "What she said."

"Who was giving off sexual energy that she could feel?" Macavity demanded, a spark of jealously but more so anger at someone that might sexually approach someone not yet fully of age.

"The two behind the Steward's bedroom door which she made the mistake of knocking on when she left breakfast trays for them," the Queen answered, keeping her tone even and her gaze on the Warlord Prince across from her.

Macavity nodded, tension leaking out almost instantly before the words penetrated his concentration and he startled. "Wait, who two?"

Griddlebone offered him a long look at that, "I want you to think about that for a moment and see if you don't come up with your own answer based on the fact that Coricopat is one of them."

Macavity blinked once and Sonya smiled faintly when he almost choked on what he was eating. "Mistoffelees? Seriously?"

The Queen's lips curled upward, "Yes, Mistoffelees." Macavity groaned as if he really wasn't sure what to do with that news.

"It's...not all bad is it?"  Tumblebrutus asked quietly, though he was well aware of just how bad it actually was if this was more than a simple lay or seduction.

Macavity glanced over at him and stared before shrugging. "Maybe no, it's just damned odd is all."

Tumble receded under the stare but managed to speak again, "H-how is it odd?"

Macavity sighed, glancing at Tumblebrutus. "You're as bad as the swoony females," he said dramatically as Jemima snarled softly at him. "Look, it's Cor. He falls hard and fast but he doesn't often do it and dangling something like Mistoffelees in front of him--"

"Someone," Jemima corrected him and he shrugged, continuing seamlessly.

"--Is just a little too suspicious is all."

The Purple Dusk Warlord considered the merits of pressing this at all, on the one hand he was possibly leading the Warlord Prince through a logical progression the man hadn't fully pieced together, but on the other it would probably be best to know what the Master of the Guard was thinking, "S-suspicious? Y-you mean someone actually p-planning for them to end up in bed together?"

"It's sorta like dangling everything he ever wants in front of his face and hoping he'll take the bait and either let down his guard in bed," Macavity said, propping his elbows on the table, giving Tumblebrutus his undivided attention. "And since Mistoffelees is more powerful than him, he could destroy Cori in that moment. Or, to distract him from something else going on."

"Why Coricopat though? Just because he's the strongest?" Sonya asked, and Jemima shuddered, trying not to think too hard about the hints in her tangled webs that Macavity might be right.

Tumble shifted back in his seat under the focused attention of the Master of the Guard.  Griddlebone spoke quietly, her gaze moving to the Black Widow for a moment as she made a mental note to see how much of the webs Jemima would share with her, "Coricopat also knows just about everything that goes on in this court.  No one comes or goes without him knowing and business transactions and even a good portion of correspondence pass over his desk before ever reaching any of us."

"Which means he's the right person to seduce for information," Macavity agreed.

"But M-Mistoffelees could actually care about him," which would be so much worse in Tumble's opinion.

Macavity considered him. "He could," he admitted. "But I gotta be looking for the worst possibilities."

The Warlord nodded very slightly, careful not to mention that the Master of the Guard hadn't actually hit on the worst possibility yet.

o-o-o-o

Later that day after Coricopat and Mistoffelees had finally emerged, Griddlebone made her way through the palace, seeking out the Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince. Mistoffelees had retreated to the library, believing Coricopat would be at his office rather than there. He'd picked out several different books, putting them all away and unsure how to get his mind to settle.

At that point he really just wanted to avoid Martin and so turned with a flop of fear when the door behind him opened, relaxing when the physic sent of a Queen seeped through.

Stepping inside, Griddlebone closed the door behind her, "Afternoon, Mistoffelees."

"Good afternoon," he replied, tone mild. "Can I do anything for you?"

She rolled a shoulder, sitting down in one of the chairs, "Well, I'm kind of curious what your intentions toward my Steward are."

Mistoffelees choked. "What?" he asked, desperately trying to think if he had ever actually had a conversation like this and not been entirely lying.

"You spent most of the day closed up in his room, I'm wondering what that means to you."

"Is really nice sex not an acceptable answer?" he asked, sinking down into one of the armchairs and standing when he felt uncomfortable with the sudden change height.

"I haven't been to see my Steward yet, but based off what I know about him the answer to that question is no," Griddlebone murmured.

"From my perspective?" Mistoffelees tried, turning a book around in his hands.

She drew a steadying breath, "Really nice sex is probably true.  Is that all it was to you?  I need to know that.  The honest answer to that."

"Why?" he asked with a tiny frown.

"Because Coricopat matters to me, and so does his mental and emotional state."

"I'm sure he can take care of himself," Mistoffelees protested, shying away painfully from his own emotions.

Griddlebone looked at him carefully, "Mistoffelees, I like you.  I trust you.  But Coricopat falls hard and fast and he's doing so for you. And I don't want to see him hurt again."

"I don't know," he said finally. "This really wasn't something I walked into with intentions."

"Can..." She sighed, "Can you try not to hurt him?  If that means letting him down now, can you do it?"

He shifted, uncomfortable. "I can try," he said softly, remembering the expression in Coricopat's eyes and the anger at the scars on his back and sat down hard in the same armchair again.

Griddlebone nodded slightly, considering him, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he returned automatically, panic still rising in his throat.

She leaned back in her chair, eyes still focused on his features, "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Such as?" he asked, glancing up.

"I don't know, listen if you need to talk, threaten Coricopat not to hurt you either--though I can already tell you what his response to that would be--leave you alone.  Any or all of the above."

"How would you threaten Coricopat?" Mistoffelees asked, eyes snapping up and trying to squash the curl of anger in his stomach, scared at the idea of possessiveness that implied.

"It would be less of a threat and more of a 'I don't want to see him hurt, don't do so'.  Mostly because I can't actually think of threats for him, or for you," she admitted.  "I don't want to see either of you get hurt."

"I generally don't like being hurt either," Mistoffelees said and thought about Martin. "Or hurting people."

"And Coricopat would rather go through Hell while still living than hurt someone he cares about. Something to think about."

"I'll keep it in mind," Mistoffelees murmured. "But... what happened to, whatever his last relationships were?"

"That..." She paused, "He's had two.  One parted, amicably, years and years ago, I'd only just met him.  The other, wasn't so amicable at parting.  It was about thirty years ago, maybe forty.  It...it isn't my place to say more."

"Oh," Mistoffelees said with a small frown.

"If you want answers, ask Coricopat about Franklin," Griddlebone spoke quietly.  "Don't be surprised if he closes you out of his study the first time.  Or tries to."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, tone wry.

"Shall I leave you to find a book to read now?" she offered him a dry smile.

"If there's nothing else you need?" Mistoffelees offered.

"Actually, there is something else.  There's a gala in Dharo in three days that I'm planning to attend, and I was hoping you would join us as part of my escort."

He blinked once. "Really?" he asked before shaking his head. "Of course. I would be honored."

She smiled, "Wonderful."  Getting to her feet, she inclined her head to him, "Have a good rest of your day, Mistoffelees.  I'll see you at dinner?"

"You should," he agreed quietly.

The Queen offered him another smile before slipping out of the room and closing the door behind her again. For a long moment Mistoffelees remained curled in the chair before letting his head sag against the back, closing his eyes and trying to blank his mind.

o-o-o-o

By the time the regular dinner hour rolled around practically everyone was already at the table, waiting for Mistoffelees and Coricopat to arrive.  The Steward entered a few minutes later and paused at the fact that most everyone was there when he was usually one of the first to arrive just about anywhere.

Jemima was grinning at him, chin in her hands and ignoring the pile of food on her plate. He offered her a long look before taking the seat that was open across from her, "Imagine seeing you all here already."

"I can't imagine what we would all be waiting for," she said, wicked grin on her face.

"You all should mind your own damned business," Coricopat growled.

"You're the Steward of the court.  How aren't you our business?"  Griddlebone asked innocently.

"Exactly," Jemima said as Mistoffelees strolled in, hands in his black trouser pockets and stopping when everyone seemed to turn to him at once.

Coricopat closed his eyes for a moment, drawing a deep breath and turning to look at Mistoffelees, only then noticing that the chair the others had left open was in decently close proximity to his own. Mistoffelees noticed that as well, glancing at Jemima and shaking his head slightly before sliding into the seat. "Is there anyone who doesn't know?" he muttered.

"Not showing up to breakfast is a big deal," Jemima informed him brightly.

"No, not showing up to breakfast is something I do every three days," Coricopat responded with a frown.

"That doesn't make it not a big deal," Munkustrap remarked from down the table.

"Well, when you're both gone," Jemima amended. "And just about make Teazer faint when she touched your door."

The Steward paled slightly, "You sent your apprentice with breakfast and let her knock?"

"Well," Jemima blushed slightly. "I thought I'd warned her off the knocking."

"So instead she received enough feedback to cause her to faint."  He sighed, "Great.  Has anyone in this palace not talked about us today?"

"Um," Jemima seemed to consider. "I think only Alonzo has held himself above it. And that's more due to blushing so hard he can't speak. So, yes?"

Coricopat looked down the table at Alonzo, "Well, whether for blushing or not, thanks for at least not talking today." The Warlord shrugged a little helplessly, paying careful attention to his food and Mistoffelees tried not to laugh at the entire thing.

"Oh, and I didn't hear anything from Martin," Jemima added and Mistoffelees' face instantly went blank.

Coricopat's expression darkened and his lip drew back in a silent snarl, but he didn't say anything, turning his attention to his food.  Griddlebone glanced at him, her brow arching sharply.

"Well that was good to know," Jemima remarked quietly. "Anyway, so, how're you both doing?"

Mistoffelees mumbled something and turned his attention to his food. "Fine," Coricopat responded, ignoring the rest of the conversation that took place at dinner.

o-o-o-o

Mistoffelees shifted, rolling his shoulders in his jacket before looking around the ball room again. He'd been feeling on edge the last few days, despite Coricopat inviting him back to his bed. Martin had only smirked at him a few days ago and ran a hand down his spine, reminding Mistoffelees what he was supposed to be doing.

Except instead he was doing his hardest to protect the Queen now, and he was still trying to reconcile the two goals in his mind.

Griddlebone wove her way through the crowd, greeting the people she knew and pausing here and there to talk to some of the other queens.  Coricopat stood to one side of the room, his grey eyes following his queen, but he was quickly confronted by one of the other Stewards belaboring him with questions about some of their business and weaving in questions regarding the Black Jeweled Warlord Prince.

Mistoffelees tracked Griddlebone through the room before he weaved through the crowd, nearly snarling at some of the looks he got to end up by Coricopat's side, leveling the other Steward with a long look. The second Steward's eyes widened and he quickly bid Coricopat a good evening and retreated.  Croicopat frowned after him before turning to Mistoffelees, "How are you enjoying your evening?"

Mistoffelees gave him a long look. "I feel like something that's been stuffed to be put on display. And something is wrong here."

"They're treating you like something on display," Coricopat murmured a soft growl in his voice.  His gaze swept the crowd again, "What are you feeling?"

Mistoffelees glanced up at him, a little surprised before looking over the room again. "I don't know. But there's fear, and something else that keeps scrapping my temper."

Grey eyes finally locating his queen, Coricopat frowned, "Well isn't that just a comforting thought.  Not that I was planning to relax around this lot anyhow."

"Not a trustworthy one?" Mistoffelees asked, looking around as several witches glanced at him before tittering quickly to each other behind their fans and he wondered if they thought just because he couldn't see their mouths he couldn't hear them.

The Steward's eyes narrowed at the witches, but he shook his head, "There are too many divisions among the courts present here.  We make an appearance because not doing so is more damaging than doing so, but I don't trust more than one or two of those present and not of our own court."

Nodding, Mistoffelees looked around. "To a dangerous level?" he asked.

"Normally I would say no.  But today I'm not so certain," Coricopat answered.  "You said yourself something’s scraping your temper, and honestly with you here they're more aware of how dark the court is.  One Gray Prince as the darkest Jewel of a court is less noticeable than a Black Jeweled Warlord Prince."

"Warlord Princes in general are more noticeable," Mistoffelees murmured, looking around and feeling that scrape again, pushing back a snarl at the room. "Someone is too scared for what this even is supposed to be."

"Do you have any idea where they are?  Or how near?" Coricopat murmured, his gaze sweeping the room and taking into account where the other members of their court were in relation to Griddlebone and who would be able to reach her side fastest should that become necessary.

Mistoffelees tilted his head to one side before shaking it. "No," he said. "But they're here." He did snarl softly as a woman flounced by, clearly trying to catch his attention and interest.

"In that case, we keep close enough to our Queen to keep her safe without giving her reason to snarl at us," the Prince said, starting to step away from the wall. Looking around, Mistoffelees nodded and followed him. It seemed a better idea to be by her side than feel the urge to rip apart anyone standing between them.

Griddlebone glanced up from her conversation when she sensed them approaching.  She offered a smile to Mistoffelees, glancing at Coricopat with a question in her eyes.  He shook his head rather than answer why they were there rather than staying to the edges of the crowd where he usually settled.

Approaching her, Mistoffelees glanced around and saw several expressions of interest in him from the females around the area and a few of even the men. Rather than snarl at them to warn them off, he firmly slide his arm through Coricopat's and held on, inclining his head to Griddlebone. "And how are you enjoying the party?" he asked, voice low.

"I prefer the ones we host," she replied so only the two men could hear her. "There's less falsity there."  Her gaze moved to a few of the witches nearby and she frowned, "And I can have people thrown out if it comes down to it."

"It's fine," Mistoffelees said, leaning a little closer to Coricopat and smiling faintly when one of them huffed and turned away.

Coricopat covered Mistoffelees' hand with his own, lips curling upward slightly as he glanced at the smaller man, "Fine or not, you know she would.  And quite frankly it's not fine."

Mistoffelees blinked up at him and finally shrugged. "Not unusual then," he said. "But why isn't it fine?"

"Because he's jealous," Griddlebone answered.

"Not technically the whole answer, my Lady," Coricopat shook his head. Glancing at Mistoffelees he answered, "It's because of how they look at you and size you up."

"Which wouldn't be a jealousy thing?" Mistoffelees asked, looking up at the other and trying to ignore how it made his chest feel warm.

"Well, alright, in part it's a jealousy thing.  I just, it's hard to explain exactly how it's not, but it has to do with the way those who give you those looks treat you," Coricopat responded.

Griddlebone shook her head, "Coricopat, you're going in circles again.  I have a few more Queens to make nice with, if you two will excuse me?"

Mistoffelees nodded though when she moved off he made sure to drag Coricopat along with him as he trailed behind her, carefully keeping only one person between them at a given time. Coricopat followed, murmuring an apology here and there when someone tried to stop him to talk.  He kept part of his attention on the Queen and part of it on cataloguing the Jewel strengths around them that he could remember.

"What are you thinking about?" Mistoffelees asked, eyes scanning the room after Coricopat had been quiet for a while. He found himself uncomfortable with how many jewels were being worn openly around him even though he knew it was natural behavior for the Blood.

Coricopat himself was wearing is Gray pendant displayed on his chest, though he usually kept that hidden letting the ring alone attest to his strength.  In this company he usually wore both visible, and his Green hidden as a last resort--though if someone drained the Gray there wouldn't be much the Green would do for protection, "How many around us have Sapphire or darker for their second Jewel."

Without moving his head, Mistoffelees slide his eyes over to glance up at him. "And is that a numerous number?"

"Not too numerous, but there are a goodly number of Sapphires and Reds.  One other Gray on this side of the room as well.  Two across the room near the far door.  There are, however, more Greens than I like as well.  On their own I'm not concerned, but an effort made by a few of them?" Coricopat shook his head, "I prefer the galas where Sonya's Opal ranks among the darker Jewels."

The corner of Mistoffelees' mouth quirked up. "I'm sure he does too," he murmured, thinking about how insecure Sonya's Jewels made him feel.

The Steward grimaced slightly, "Oh he very much does."  His gaze drifted to where Griddlebone was talking to a Green-Jeweled Queen, the woman's Red-Jeweled Consort a few paces away.

"But she doesn't seem to care that he's not as powerful," Mistoffelees remarked, scowling at someone stepped in his line of sight.

Coricopat shook his head, "Power has nothing to do with why Griddlebone chose him as her Consort.  He's a very intelligent man and she's thoroughly in love with him.  But Sonya is on the dividing line, and as such is lighter than much of our Court's First Circle and several of the Consorts who gather here today."

"Whether she thinks his power matters or not, it matters to him," Mistoffelees pointed out, glancing over at the red jeweled consort and shaking his head slightly. "There's so much more darker power in this realm."

"It's the bloodlines," the taller man murmured.  "There are darker bloodlines in the realm and they haven't diluted as much as they might have in the last several decades."

For a moment Mistoffelees didn't reply. The High Priestess that had ruled Terielle for centuries had destroyed many of the Dark Jeweled blood there, and those who had been left alive were for the most part covered in her taint and wiped out. Growing up in Dhelman, at least his people had still been fighting against her influence--though Darker Jewels still scared them too. "It's just different," he said finally, looking away to track Griddlebone better.

As the Queen started weaving through the crowd again, Coricopat followed her, still talking to Mistoffelees, "Is it a good or bad sort of different?"

"I don't know," he said, shaking his head slightly, arm still linked with Coricopat's. "There's still enough fear to go around."

They stopped again, Griddlebone settling into a conversation with another Sapphire Queen.  Coricopat shook his head slightly, but his attention was drawn away by the approach of a comely young Dharo witch who wore an Opal ring.

Mistoffelees was so focused on Griddlebone and trying to pinpoint what was irritating him that he almost didn't notice her until she was right in front of him, fully expecting her to continue along without stopping. That expectation came to naught as she stopped, Mistoffelees slightly between her and Coricopat whose glare she was ignoring, "Isn't this a wonderful party?"

"It's better than many I have attended," Mistoffelees offered her, which was true. But it lacked dancing and frankly anything else redeeming. It just didn't have blood all over the walls yet.

"I don't think I've seen you at one of these before," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear and exposing the clear skin of her neck and shoulder in the process.

He blinked at that, expression still smooth. "I've just arrived in the area," he returned, slipping his hand from Coricopat as he tried to figure out what she was doing and what she wanted.

"Which court are you here with?" she asked, as though she didn't know.  Even if the entire room hadn't been abuzz with talk of the Warlord Prince, him walking arm in arm with a Court's Steward should have been an obvious clue.  Coricopat tensed, fighting back the urge to snarl at the girl and whisk Mistoffelees away.

Mistoffelees blinked again. "Griddlebone's," he said. "And you?" he added for at least the veneer of politeness.

"Serena's," the witch answered.  Coricopat's lip curled back at that, and she ignored him again choosing instead to take a step closer to Mistoffelees. "Have you been to Dharo before?"

"A long time ago," he said, and they had just been passing through, though he'd managed to attend the theatre. He just had no real intention of explaining that to her.

"Do you think you'll be here much longer after the party?  I could show you around, there are some wonderful places here after all."

Mistoffelees took a deep breath, aware that she was more interested in showing him her bed than the actual area. "Sadly, I believe my Queen's plan is to return home shortly afterward," Mistoffelees said mildly.

"Perhaps you'll come back soon?" she asked, her lips curling into what she hoped was a seductive smile.  Coricopat actually growled at that.

Looking first at the Steward and then back to her he shook his head slightly. "No, I do not believe we shall be doing that any time in the near future."

She opened her mouth to say something else and Coricopat finally spoke, "Lady, he's already said no.  Go find someone else to flirt with."

Mistoffelees glanced over at Coricopat and took a deep breath before realizing that while they had been talking Griddlebone had moved out of their line of sight.

The witch frowned, but backed down at another look from the Gray-Jeweled Prince.  Coricopat turned his attention away from her, eyes widening as he scanned for their Queen.

Mistoffelees felt the itch grating on his nerves turn into a full jewel powered strike and shoved the Dharo witch in front of him out of the way, using a thread of power to hone in on Griddlebone and shove anyone between them out of the way.

Griddlebone felt a shift in the power around her and threw up a Sapphire shield at the last minute, feeling the force of a Red-Jewel strike hit it--shattering the shield and sending her stumbling back.  She could sense Mistoffelees' power through the room and, even as she tried to gather her own strength to block a possible second strike, felt the familiar Gray of Coricopat's Jewels settle in a shield around her.

Focus narrowing in on the person striking, Mistoffelees blazed through his inner barriers, ransacking his mind with cold, dark energy before burning it out, all in about the time it took for the man to scream.

The Steward reached his Queen's side and helped her to her feet, carefully checking her for any serious injuries, and breathing a soft sigh of relief when the worst was a couple of scrapes.  His expression was dark as he turned to Mistoffelees, his arm still around Griddlebone and the Gray shield still in place even as she murmured that she was fine.

Head tilted to the side, Mistoffelees stood, staring down at the body in front of him, the blood seeping from the man's broken skull freezing as it pooled near his feet. Carefully probing the other's jewels, Mistoffelees smiled thinly as he checked to make sure the body was entirely burned out and would not be returning as Demon Dead.

Finally he turned to the Queen, kicking a fleck of frozen blood away from his boots. "Are you well?" he asked, voice low and almost crooning.

She pushed Coricopat's hand away and nodded, taking a careful step toward the Warlord Prince as most of the rest of those assembled tried to retreat without being noticed, "I'm well, Mistoffelees."

He considered her, looking her up and down and noticing where there were bruise marks and a few cuts, including one on her cheek. His golden eyes were glazed but when he decided that she was indeed well, he nodded before holding a hand out. "We should leave," he said.

The Queen nodded, slipping her hand gently into his and never taking her eyes off of him, "Yes, it's time we were away from here. If you'll take me home, Mistoffelees?"

He nodded again, glancing at Coricopat and motioning for him to follow, if he willed, before heading for the landing outside the mansion where he could easily catch the winds. Coricopat paused for the briefest of moments before following the Queen and Warlord Prince to the landing.  They caught the Winds back to the palace, landing at the edge of the front lawn.

Mistoffelees had shielded them both using his blacks to ride the darkest and thus quickest winds. He gave the colorless Jewel in the landing web a long look, as if he expected treachery even from that before sweeping up toward the palace.

Coricopat followed a few paces behind the Queen and Warlord Prince, sending a call on the Spear Thread for Sonya as they entered the palace--warning him to come carefully.  Griddlebone kept her hand in Mistoffelees', giving him a grounding point as much as she could.

Mistoffelees' eyes had started to return to their more natural state when Sonya carefully entered the room and for a long moment Mistoffelees just stared him down before finally stepping back to allow Sonya access to Griddlebone. The Queen touched Mistoffelees briefly on the shoulder, murmuring her thanks for all he'd done before crossing the foyer to her Consort and wrapping her arms around him, burying her face against his chest.

Coricopat stepped up next to Mistoffelees, not saying anything as he glanced at the Warlord Prince.

The set of Mistoffelees' shoulders started to shake as he came further back to himself, stepping off the killing edge and away from the cold anger inherent in the Jewels the Blood wore. His eyes warmed as he watched Sonya murmur soothing things to Griddlebone, pulling her hair down so he could stroke the long locks as he asked what happened, glancing every once and a while at Mistoffelees.

Griddlebone managed a shaky explanation of the disaster at the end of the gala, secure in the fact that she was in her own court and still alive and in possession of her Jewel strength though severely shaken.  Hesitating for a brief moment, Coricopat finally set a hand on Mistoffelees' arm when the chill of the other's anger had warmed and the sharp killing edge had faded.

Movements still sharp, Mistoffelees glanced up at Coricopat, a small frown between his eyes. "Are you calm enough to talk?"  Coricopat murmured, his gaze still focused on Griddlebone and Sonya, though he drew his attention away from them to look at Mistoffelees.

"Yes," he said, voice edged. "If you do it carefully."

"In that case it may be best to wait," the Steward admitted quietly, eyes returning to the Consort and Queen.

Mistoffelees could feel that comment scrape against the edge of his temper and took a deep breath, looking away. "Why, were you intending to yell?"

Coricopat shook his head, "No.  I was intending to ask you if you found anything in his mind about who sent him or why he attempted that."

"How many enemies do you think your Queen has?" Mistoffelees asked, looking up.

"Not many that I've been able to find out about, but I would prefer to know if this is someone I haven't considered or not."

"It's probably someone you haven't considered then," Mistoffelees said, glancing over. "It's a rather organized group that seems to want strong Queens gone."

Coricopat frowned at that, "How much were you able to find out about them?"

"They came out of Little Terrille, I think," he said, and shook his head, wishing he could dislodge all the memories he'd taken from the man's mind, including raping young Queens in an attempt to break them--orphans usually and alone. It was a tactic he'd seen once and wished never to deal with again. "They dislike Queens who have more dark power than they do. And she's..." he shook his head, unsure how to even articulate it.

Coricopat's expression darkened, "She's..?"

"She's powerful, and growing more so apparently," he said with a frown. "Gaining a Black Jeweled Warlord Prince? That tipped a balance in their minds. She's good for the land and they don't want it."

The Steward ran a hand over his face, sighing heavily, "Mother Night. How many did he know of in their group?"

"Not many," Mistoffelees said, which was good, considering he knew Martin was in contact with them.

Coricopat looked toward Griddlebone and Sonya again, "Are we going to be able to deal with them?"

"Yes," Mistoffelees said, voice faint.

"And if we can't?" the Steward's voice was strained.

Mistoffelees narrowed his eyes, strain evident around his face. "Do you think I would not be able to protect her?"

"I think we can't always be there," Coricopat answered.

Mistoffelees took a deep breath. "Then we make excuses to be," he said, striding forward to where Sonya and Griddlebone were still standing. "My Queen," he said, tone neutral. "Would you like me to set up black shields tonight? Around your room or as much of the palace as I can?"

The Sapphire-Jeweled Queen hesitated at that, "I would like to be able to get out of my room if need be. But as much of the palace as possible would..." She drew a deep breath, "Would be appreciated."

Mistoffelees didn't add that it was possible the attackers were already inside but he nodded. "Alright."

"My Queen," Coricopat started.

Griddlebone shook her head, looking up at Sonya uncertainly, "Unless, you think a smaller shield..."

Mistoffelees took a deep breath, every possible change just scraping his temper again and making him want to snarl everyone into bed. He was feeling close to the killing edge still, and shaky from the fact Coricopat had witnessed him killing someone. He'd done it plenty of times, and he felt no real concern killing in front of the person he was protecting--but the bystander in his bed felt different.

Griddlebone drew another deep breath, finally coming to a decision, "A shield around my room tonight.  If, if you would."

He nodded, motioning Sonya and Griddlebone ahead of him, closing down the room and attached suite with a shield. Fingers curling into a fist and relaxing he took a deep breath.

Waiting down the hall while Mistoffelees placed the shield, Coricopat watched the other quietly, "Mistoffelees?"

"Yes?" he asked softly, running a hand through his hair and slowly turning, drain and exhaustion on his face.

The Prince moved over slowly, "You look exhausted.  Are you going to be able to sleep tonight?"

"Doesn't sleep usually come from exhaustion?" he murmured, shoulders sagging.

"Usually," Coricopat set a hand on the other's shoulder.  "Let's get you settled in for the night?"

"Where?" Mistoffelees asked, insecurity finally seeping through his exhaustion.

"Where would you prefer?" Mistoffelees just blinked at him in exhaustion, still feeling too unsure to ask for anything. Coricopat brushed a gentle hand over Mistoffelees' hair, "My bed if you'll come, yours if you'll sleep better there and let me join you."

"Yours," he managed finally, throat feeling raw.

The Prince nodded slightly, slipping an arm around Mistoffelees without thinking about it and leading the way to his room. Mistoffelees trailed after him, leaning against the taller without thinking about it.

Coricopat got them into his room and closed the door, Gray-locking the room out of habit. Just blinking at him, Mistoffelees sank down onto the bed, flopping over and groaning slightly when he realized he was still dressed, pushing himself up to pull off his shoes, sure if he vanished them now he'd never find them again.

Coricopat shrugged out of his jacket and vest, taking off his shoes and setting everything near the chair.  He glanced toward Mistoffelees, considering the smaller man for a long moment.

Mistoffelees finally looked up from his boots, staring at the other watching him. "Yes?" he asked, giving the grey jewel lock a look as if wondering how quickly he could break through it.

He tilted his head on one side for a moment before he turned his attention back to getting ready for bed, "You called her 'my queen'."

Mistoffelees stared at him, hands frozen on his last shoe. "What?"

"When you offered to put the shield up for Griddlebone.  You addressed her as 'my Queen'.  I don't think I've heard you do that before."

"You're having this conversation now?" Mistoffelees asked.

"No?  I was just remarking on it, not starting a conversation about it," Coricopat answered quietly.

Blinking at him, Mistoffelees pulled his Jewel out of the collar of his shirt, considering how much of it he'd drained shielding two people on the Black Winds and smashing through a Red Warlord's barriers like that. "Of course," he said, dropping the Jewel which was still bright and fairly full and deciding it was stress and fear making him want to curl up and never move again.

The Gray Jeweled Prince moved over to the bed and knelt down, removing Mistoffelees' last shoe and looking up at him, "You need sleep, Mistoffelees. Let your mind rest for tonight."

For a moment he blinked at him in alarm. "It's fine--" he started.

Coricopat's brow arched, "What's fine?"

"I can undress myself," he murmured, though he looked incapable of it.

The Steward was kind enough not to look skeptical, "I know, but you look exhausted and you've done so much tonight.  Let me help you get settled in just a little quicker?" Mistoffelees blinked at him and finally nodded slightly, tensely.

Coricopat set to work on getting the other's vest off, "Are you calling in any sort of night clothes?"

For a moment Mistoffelees just looked at him. "No," he said. "Should I?"

“Not necessarily," the other man replied quietly as he started on the buttons of Mistoffelees' shirt.

"Good," he said, rolling his shoulders out of the shift he was wearing, uncomfortable with someone helping him undress in ways he didn't want to think about. Coricopat shifted back to let Mistoffelees finish getting undressed. He extinguished the lamps in the room except for the two nearest the bed.

Deciding it wasn't worth the energy of taking his pants off, Mistoffelees pushed the covers down to curl up underneath them, blanket pulled up to his eyes. Sliding into bed beside him, Coricopat put out the last of the lamps, turning on his side so he was facing the other, "Get some sleep, Mistoffelees."

Except once it was dark, Mistoffelees found himself feeling wide awake and tense again. Hiking the blankets higher he watched Coricopat. The Gray-Jeweled Prince felt him tense and sat up, lighting the lamp right by the bed again and dimming it, "Mistoffelees, what is it?"

Mistoffelees blinked at him in confusion, having gone to bed tense many times before without it ever being commented on. "That man..." he started and changed tactics. "You'd never seen me use my power before."

Tilting his head to one side and frowning slightly, Coricopat shook his head, "No, I hadn't. Is that what has you so concerned right now?"

"Yes," he said finally, pushing himself up on one arm and taking the blankets with him.

"It was more power than I expected to see you unleash, but I'm not going to run because of it."

"Why not?" Mistoffelees asked after a moment.

"Because it doesn't change who you are.  And you acted in protection of the Queen," Coricopat answered softly.

Eyes going to the side, Mistoffelees took a deep breath. "And that makes you think of me no differently?" he asked, as if not really believing it.

"Think of you differently? I suppose in some ways, but it doesn't change what matters."

"Then what matters?"

"That I care deeply about you.  You've now proven yourself to care about my Queen and to be willing to take down those who would do her harm.  What you did tonight gave me a healthier respect for the power of your Jewels, but it didn't change my opinions of you," Coricopat explained.

Moving suddenly Mistoffelees knocked him back over by his shoulders, pinning him down on his back. "Do you realize what I could do to you?"

Keeping his gaze locked on the other, Coricopat swallowed and nodded, "I do.  You could take me apart as easily as you did that man this evening."

"Then why aren't you afraid?" Mistoffelees asked, confusion written across his face, as well as other emotions he refused to acknowledge, like the fear that Coricopat really was afraid of him. It was a silly thing to be scared of but he couldn't stop the emotion curling in the pit of his stomach.

"Because I trust you.  Maybe that's not enough reason in your eyes, but I do."  His eyes flickered over Mistoffelees' face, "I don't believe you'd ever intentionally hurt me."

"You're a fool to trust me," Mistoffelees said, leaning down until their faces were touching.

Coricopat managed not to let his thoughts at that comment show, "Love makes fools of the wisest of men."

Mistoffelees had been willing to let it go, and either roll over and go to sleep or press a kiss to the other's mouth before all the words processed. "What?"

"I said love makes fools of the wisest of us," Coricopat repeated quietly, looking for a moment like he wanted to retreat.

"Then you shouldn't be taken for a fool," Mistoffelees snarled before slamming their mouths together, hands curled around Coricopat's shoulders. Stiffening slightly at that, Coricopat quickly relaxed, pressing up into the kiss and parting his lips. Still snarling, Mistoffelees pressed his advantage in the kiss, hands on either side of Coricopat's head and laying his body along the other's.

The other man gasped against the kiss, his hands moving to rest on Mistoffelees' waist.

"Do you still want me?" Mistoffelees growled, drawing back enough to breathe on Coricopat's mouth when he spoke.

"Yes, more than anything," Coricopat managed. Instead of replying, Mistoffelees pushed him further into the bed and followed him down.


	8. With No Strings Attached

The next morning, Coricopat made his way out to the training grounds where Macavity could usually be found at that hour.  He would prefer to be outside when he had this conversation with the Red-Jeweled Warlord Prince.

Macavity had been made aware something had happened, but due to the lateness of the hour no one had felt the need to actually explain it to him and he was on edge. The training grounds had scattered pairs working on warm ups but no one dared approach him as he went through a routine, stopping to look up when Coricopat approached.

"Walk with me and I'll fill you in," the Steward offered.

Setting the blade down, Macavity nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as they walked. "What happened?"

"There was a Red-Jeweled attack on Griddlebone at the gala last night.  Apparently there's a group who are systematically trying to destroy the darker Queens and they assumed last night would be a good time to try for her.  She's alright, just shaken," Coricopat was quick to assure.

Macavity considered him, fighting now his urge to snarl that he should have been there, aware that both Coricopat and Mistoffelees were stronger than him, though apparently not very good at observing threats before they happened. "Who took care of him?"

Coricopat glanced at him, having some idea of what was going on in his head, "Mistoffelees.  Shattered his mind, his Jewels and his skull in one strike."

That brought Macavity up short for a moment. "He did... what?"

Turning his gaze away to look over the lawn, the Steward murmured, "He took out the attacker, gained the information needed, made certain he wouldn't come back Demon Dead, and went colder than I thought possible."

Sucking in a deep breath, Macavity nodded. "He is only the third male in all the history of the Blood to wear the Black. The other two have both been High Lord of Hell."

Coricopat nodded slightly, "I know. He acted before there was time to fully process what was happening, and did it in defense of the Queen.  Saw her safely back and Black-shielded her room last night to prevent a chance of a further attack."

"So are you scared of him yet or has sleeping with him given you some kind of immunity to that?" Macavity asked, looking around the yard.

"I have a healthy respect for what he's capable of.  And yes, it's a bit unnerving, but no I'm not afraid of him--not more than I already have been."

Macavity barked out a laugh and shook his head. "Then you're probably an idiot, you know that right?"

Coricopat nodded very slightly, "I know, believe me I know."

"Then what do you plan on doing?" Macavity asked, looking over at him.

"That I don't know yet," he sighed.

"Well, better you than me," Macavity muttered, shaking his head, black hair falling over his face. "Or anyone else for that matter."

"Basically," the Steward sighed, "I never go in half-way for things do I?"

"You never have," Macavity agreed. "You should work on that."

"Yes, because working on it went so well last time I tried."

"Work on it harder," the Master of Arms said with a laugh. "Do you need anything done for today?"

Coricopat shook his head, "No, the only specific thing I had for today was updating you about last night."

"Then do you want to take some tension out by picking up weapons you've ignored for months?" Macavity offered.

"If you promise not to hand me my ass, I would like to be able to move tomorrow."

"I am perfectly aware of how much you've been slacking," Macavity assured him. "So I'll only knock you on it, rather than hand it to you, how about that?"

Coricopat shook his head, his lips quirking upward slightly, "Agreed."

Laughing again, tension still evident in his shoulders, Macavity gestured him forward. "Come along then," he said. Leading the way back to the training grounds, Coricopat sighed knowing how sore he would be later.

o-o-o-o

Mistoffelees turned down the hallway, having taken the black shield down earlier that morning and froze when he saw Martin striding toward him, anger evident in the other's features. He had time to lift his chin in defiance before Martin grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him into the nearest room, which at one time had been a music instruction room, though it appeared as if it had been unused in some time. Continuing to push until Mistoffelees' shoulders hit the wall, Martin snarled at him. "What is wrong with you?"

"I surely don't know what you're talking about," Mistoffelees said blandly, tilting his head back to meet Martin's eyes from where he was snarling still.

"You killed the person who would have done your job for you," Martin hissed.

"And took out his mind so when he showed up in Hell he could hardly alert others to the fact whoever is employing you is an _idiot_ ," Mistoffelees returned, aural shield snapping up around the room.

Martin paused and considered him.

Mistoffelees used that moment to shove him away, straightening his clothes and smoothing his wavy hair back down in a futile attempt. "If a Black Jeweled Warlord Prince had let an attacker kill his queen, how do you think that would look?" he demanded. "This is Sadi's realm, as is Hell. How do you think he would feel about males killing dark Queens they did not like? I would be suspect for letting her die in such a way," he explained, fingers still curled around the bottom of his black vest. "Allowing that man to finish what he wanted to do would give up the game and allowing him to show up in Hell gives a likely chance their entire plot would be exposed."

Leaning back, Martin crossed his arms over his chest. "So you are not falling in love with this court?" he asked, tone light but eyes shrewd.

Mistoffelees barked out a harsh laugh. "What would I love about it?"

Lifting one shoulder, Martin continued to watch him. "I wouldn't be able to tell you," he replied. "As I would never know."

Mouth twisting, Mistoffelees looked away. "You've put me in a difficult position here," he said. "They have to trust me enough not to suspect me, but the Court is tied so closely around this Queen they would never believe one of their own did it, and the entire place is under Sadi's protection."

Martin shook his head. "Are you afraid of him?"

"He's the only other Black Jeweled Warlord Prince alive," Mistoffelees pointed out. "And he's much older than I am. Not even mentioning how many more allies he has, and there's the fact he's the High Lord of Hell _while still among the living_. I might stand a chance against him but why would I risk it?" Mistoffelees asked and shook his head and swallowed hard when Martin leaned closer again.

"Never forget what your job is," he said, their golden eyes locked with each other before he turned and breezed out of the room. Once he was gone Mistoffelees sagged against the wall.

o-o-o-o

Coricopat was on his way back to his room to change.  He was already starting to ache, so he could only imagine how he was going to be tomorrow.  Pausing, he noticed the door to the music room was open and cautiously pushed it open.  He stepped inside when he saw the Black Jeweled Warlord Prince, "Mistoffelees."

His back turned, Mistoffelees had been going through the music crystals on the stand, glancing back at the sound of Coricopat's voice. "Yes?"

His gaze swept around the room, it had been ages since he'd been in it, "Just surprised to see anyone in here."

"Music's in here," Mistoffelees said, holding one of the crystals up as if that's why he'd walked into the room and not just something he'd been doing to calm himself.

Smiling slightly he padded over to consider the crystals, "Yes, I'd almost forgotten what all we had in here."

"A surprisingly thorough collection," Mistoffelees said, dropping another of the crystals in the player and swaying slightly as he listened to the first couple bars.

Coricopat tilted his head to the side, listening to the music and considering steps that would work with it before offering Mistoffelees his hand, "May I have a dance?"

For several bars Mistoffelees considered him before nodding, holding his hand out. "Whose lead?"

"I was going to let you choose," he admitted.

The corner of Mistoffelees' mouth twisted. "Well, you're the one who asked," he said, sliding into the follow position.

Coricopat offered a faint smile at that, drawing Mistoffelees into the steps of a slow, sweeping dance. For a while Mistoffelees let himself got lost in the movements, the dance fluid but required enough concentration not to think about other things.

Guiding the smaller man through the steps, Coricopat drew him closer again as the music came to a close, his arm resting loosely around Mistoffelees' waist. When they stilled, Mistoffelees leaned his head against Coricopat's chest and just breathed there.

Bringing a hand up, Coricopat stroked Mistoffelees' thick hair, not saying anything but simply allowing the other to lean against him. Swallowing, Mistoffelees finally pulled back. "Did you need anything?" he asked, voice soft.

"No," Coricopat shook his head.  "I just saw the door was open on my way past."

"Do you want anything?" Mistoffelees amended softly.

The Prince blinked at him, "Not that I can think of at the moment?  Is everything alright?"

"It's perfectly fine," he replied with a smile that was only slightly forced.

Coricopat looked skeptical, but nodded very slightly, "If you're sure."

Mistoffelees nodded. "I am," he said, looking over toward the crystals.

Following his gaze, Coricopat spoke softly, "Shall I leave you be?"

"No," Mistoffelees said, almost too quickly. “No that’s fine.”

The Steward blinked at that, "Alright, is there anything I can do for you?"

"No," he repeated. "I'm sorry," Mistoffelees added, shaking his head slightly and stepping back out of the embrace. "I didn't sleep as well as I hoped last night." Pausing, he looked Coricopat over. "Are you sure you're alright though?"

"It's alright.  And I’m fine, just stepped onto the training field for the first time in far too long this morning is all."

Mistoffelees blinked once, biting back a laugh. "And why did you decide that was in your best interest?"

"Did I say I decided that?"  Coricopat asked with a sheepish grin.

"I suppose that means Macavity had something to do with it," Mistoffelees said, faint smile on his features.

"He pointed out how long it's been since I actually picked up one of those weapons, yes."

Shaking his head, Mistoffelees ran a hand down his back. "Poor dear. You'll be sore tomorrow."

Coricopat arched slightly at that touch, "Tomorrow?  I'm sore now.  Tomorrow I'll be pretty damn near immobile."

"Should put you on ice then," Mistoffelees said, laughing, the sound low and surprisingly warm.

"Mother night, that sounds like a rather delightful idea actually," his lips curled upward.  "I was considering a hot shower for the moment though."

"How about a hot bath?" Mistoffelees offered instead. "You could even share it."

Coricopat's gaze swept over him, "Are you offering to join me then?"

"Well, if you like," Mistoffelees said and rolled his shoulders into a shrug.

The other smiled gently, "I would."

"And I could get you ice afterwards," Mistoffelees said. "So you're not useless tomorrow."

"I've yet to hear anything suggested that I could possibly dream of saying no to."

Laughing, Mistoffelees pulled on both of his hands. "Then come on." Coricopat grinned, allowing himself to be led out of the music room before he drew Mistoffelees a bit closer as they made their way back to his chambers.

o-o-o-o

Teazer drew a deep breath before stepping into the chamber with the altar to make her Offering.  She had been preparing for this, and knew that whatever she came away with would be her adult Jewel strength for the rest of her life.  Emerging a while later she held the cut Opal in her hands as though not quite sure how to respond to the multi-faceted Jewel.

Jemima was waiting for her as the Priestess meandered away, looking out at the night sky before back to her apprentice. "Come, darling," she said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "How are you feeling?"

She closed her hand over the Jewel and drew a breath as she allowed her teacher to lead her away, "Like I have a darker Jewel.  I...It means something to land on the dividing line, doesn't it?  Coming in mid-way between the dark and the light."  Teazer was pretty sure she was making no sense at all.

"It means something," Jemima agreed. "I'm sure you could speak to Sonya about it sometime."

"Think he'd be willing to?" Teazer asked, glancing at the other woman.

"Considering he is the most approachable male of the first circle?" Jemima said and nodded. "Yes. It's not like I would be sending you to talk to Coricopat about Jewel strength. Sonya probably understands it the best of any of us."

Teazer couldn't help but smile nervously at that, "Mother Night, if you sent me to Coricopat about that I'd never go."

"Which is why I'm not," she said, smiling. "You've spent a lot of time around darker Jewels. Being on that line... you'll be fine in this court. Your brother will be proud."

Teazer shook her head, "Jerrie'd be proud of me if I walked away with the same color I went in with, everyone knows that.  But thank you for the good words."

"Well, I'm proud of you then," Jemima said with a tiny smile. "Unless you're going to say I would have been the same no matter what? Which is probably true, but oblige me and say it wasn't."

"Thank you," Teazer smiled again.  "It's good to know I'm coming out alright."

"I'm curious what else you might be coming out as," Jemima said, glancing over at her.

"Nothing I can think of," she admitted.  Pausing for a moment she glanced at her teacher again, "What...what do you think Mac's going to say?"

Jemima gave her a long look. "You know that was his birthright, yes?"

"Yes," she responded almost warily.

"Then why do you think he would react negatively to the Jewel?" Jemima asked, glancing over.

Teazer blinked at her for a long moment before shaking her head, "That wasn't quite what I meant.  I mean, I'm an adult now..."

"Than based off how he's been reacting, he will be within Blood rights and protocol to take the next step," Jemima said, tone mild. "Whether he does or not is up to him. But I can't imagine him slinking away with his tail between his legs."

The younger woman seemed to relax a bit at that, "Slinking's really not his style."

"No, it's really not," Jemima agreed, shaking her head slightly.

They reached the palace, Teazer offering her teacher an uncertain smile, "So I guess that means he's more likely to take the next step then."

"It may take him a little while," Jemima warned. "But yes, I dare say he should."

"If it takes him a while, it takes him a while,” Teazer said, sounding philosophical, even if she didn’t entire believe it.

"That's certainly the attitude to take," Jemima nodded. "Who knows, you may even find someone else you like more."

Teazer's brows arched at that but she shrugged, "Maybe."

"Not that I'm counting on that mind," Jemima said with a small smile.

Returning the smile, the apprentice Black Widow finally opened the front door of the palace, stepping inside and holding it for Jemima. Jemima followed her, looking around the foyer where most of the palace and the staff had gathered, waiting for them to return from the alter.

Teazer took a half step back at seeing practically the entire court assembled. Jemima pushed her forward again by the back, looking specifically where Macavity was leaning against the top of the stairs.

The younger woman smiled hesitantly, her gaze tracking up to where she could see Macavity.  She opened her hand after a moment, revealing the Opal Jewel still resting in her palm.

There was scatter applause and general smiles passed around at that, Sonya stepping forward to consider it. "You might want to get it reset," he said. "A different metal would be more suiting for you. But congratulations."

Teazer's smile became slightly more sure at that, looking up at him, "Thank you.  A new setting would make sense."  She bit her lip, speaking quietly, "You...you think we could talk sometime about the Jewel?"

"Of course," he said, offering her a gentle smile. From the top of the stairs, Macavity looked around, starting to slink back down them, several steps at a time.

She relaxed more at that, "Thank you."  Her gaze moved toward the motion on the stairs and she paused.

While Macavity was still taking his time with the stairs, Mistoffelees approached her, nodding to Jemima. "Congratulations," he said.

Teazer's eyes widened, but she offered the Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince a smile, "Thank you."

Griddlebone stepped forward, slipping an arm through Sonya's offering quiet congratulations as well.

Offering her another smile, Mistoffelees stepped back, stopping by Macavity who remained watching. "You're not going to be a coward now, are you?" Mistoffelees asked and Macavity snarled at him. Shrugging, unconcerned, Mistoffelees breezed away.

Teazer glanced toward Macavity again, but her attention was drawn away when her brother stepped up next to her, "Congrats, Tea."

"Thanks, Jer," she offered him a bright smile, tilting her head into his touch as he combed a lock of her hair back.

"All grown up, now, huh?"

"Never _all_ grown up in your eyes," she replied with a grin. "Always your little sister."

"And don't you forget it, neither," he replied with a matching grin.

"Well that's a terrifying thought," Jemima remarked before giving Jerrie a long look. "Not to break up the adorableness that just happened, but you're not going to turn over protective snarly male are you?"

"Think she'd let me?"  Jerrie responded skeptically.  "If I haven't been allowed or able to do that for the last several years, I don't think I'm going to now."

Jemima offered him a winning smile. "Oh good. That means I don't have to convince Alonzo to distract you in his stammering, somewhat clumsy way."

Jerrie's grin turned mischievous, "Of course, if that's how you plan to keep me from doing so I could always see about being snarly and over protective."

Teazer whacked his arm, "Don't you dare."

Rolling her eyes, Jemima sighed. "Actually, you and Alonzo make me want to turn into a stubborn and snarly female so never mind."

"Oh, now we're not really that bad, are we?"

"Yes, you are," Coricopat spoke from where he had approached to offer his congratulations before retreating.

"Coricopat is more effective at romance than you two are," Jemima deadpanned. "No offense Coricopat but I used not to think that was possible."

"None taken," the Steward replied.  "For many years it wasn't."

"So you just needed the right person. I'm trying to figure out the push these two need," Jemima said and shook her head at Jerrie as she noticed Alonzo starting from the back of the servants to approach to offer his own congratulations.

"Exactly," Coricopat nodded.  He murmured his congratulations to Teazer before slipping over to Macavity's side.

"Yes?" Macavity said, not quite growling but close.

"Jemima's more than willing to hand out stubborn, snarly male status tonight," he remarked.  "Take your time, but growling about it without doing anything is unreasonable."  With those words he stepped past his friend in the direction Mistoffelees had gone.

Macavity watched where he was going and took a deep breath before carefully letting it out, wishing everyone would just leave already.

As each congratulation was offered the foyer slowly emptied, leaving a handful of people behind.  Considering who was left and having noticed Teazer's frequent glances at Macavity, Griddlebone glanced at her Consort, "I think it's time we retired for the night."

"Yes," Sonya agreed. "There shall be a dinner tomorrow," he told Teazer before leading his queen away and to their chambers.

Teazer watched them go with a small sigh of relief now that most of the court had left as well.  She glanced toward Macavity again, pausing before crossing the foyer to him.

Macavity had been waiting at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed. As he approached he dropped them, watching her walk over avidly as Jemima pulled Jerrie out of the room with her.

Stopping a few paces away, Teazer looked up at the Master of the Guard, "You've been staring since I got back."

"I can't imagine why," he said softly. "So, Opal. You gonna take up Sonya's suggestion, and get it reset?"

"I think I will probably," she admitted, considering the Jewel.  "Make it, well, a little more mine."

"The cut suits you," he said, tilting his head at it. "But the metal's off. The Jewel itself though, that suits you."

Teazer smiled faintly at that, "Thank you."

Tapping it once Macavity smiled as it flared with feminine power, trying to chase him off. "Happy with it?" he asked, idly.

"I… yes, I am.  It's, kind of strange to think about it, honestly in some ways," she answered.

"Which sort of ways?" he asked, moving slightly closer as he spoke.

"Well, I mean I've always had my Jewels, and now to have a darker one, even more than that, the dividing line, it's just something to adjust to thinking about."

"It's not so bad, being on that line," Macavity said.

She shook her head, "No.  It's a good place, it's just different."

"And you're an adult now," Macavity asked. "How's that feel?"

Teazer smiled, "Honestly?  Not much difference beyond everyone else being aware of it too.  I mean, like I said, a darker Jewel, but I'm still me."

"You are still you," Macavity agreed.

"But now I'm an adult, which means different things for protocol and things like that," she offered quietly.

"It does," Macavity agreed. "Do you understand how it all works?"

She nodded very slightly, "I think so."

"The point of a Claim, is to allow a Warlord Prince to get to know a witch and see if she wants him back," he said. "We know each other but... it's still all your choice."

Teazer paused for a moment, "I do."

Hesitating again, Macavity held out a hand. "May you allow me to stake that claim then?"

She paused for a brief moment before placing her hand in his, "I will, yes."

He offered her a hesitant smile and reeled her gently in. Moving to him willingly, she slipped an arm around his waist when she was close enough.

After several heated moments, Macavity drew back, offering her a smile. "You must be tired."

She offered him a matching smile, "I am, honestly.  I should retire for the night and let you get to bed as well."

He ran a hand down her hair and nodded. "Maybe tomorrow we could go into town, to the Jewelers. Unless you'd rather go alone."

"No, that, I'd like that.  I hate doing things like that alone."

"Good," he said with another smile, feeling his confidence grow now that she had accepted him. He leaned down, kissing the back of her hand. "Until the morning then."

Teazer offered him a faint smile, "Until the morning.  Sleep well, Macavity."

"You as well," he rumbled, tendrils of sexuality entering his voice.

She took a steadying breath and finally stepped away from him, "Good night."

Watching her go, he smiled before heading for his own bed room.

o-o-o-o

Tumblebrutus entered the kitchen quietly, knowing Jenny had retired for the night.  He slipped over to where she kept the bread and cut a couple of slices before locating fruit preserves for them.  He moved quietly, senses on alert for the presence of any other people.

Moments later Mistoffelees slid inside, hands in his pockets and looking for food, having been put off at dinner by Martin's almost constant staring at him. Tumble paused, offering the other a smile and a piece of bread, "Evening."

"This seems familiar," Mistoffelees remarked, returning the faint smile.

"Familiar can be good," the other offered as he sought out something else to eat.

"You, me, scrounging for food because Martin doesn't eat like a normal human and holds everyone to that standard," Mistoffelees said, riffling through the cupboards. "At least you're not dealing with the Black metabolism."

"Yes, that.  Exactly that.  I've so far managed to avoid running into the cook on these searches at least," Tumble murmured, locating some cooked meat.

"She's nice too," Mistoffelees said, leaning up on his toes to consider the food before leaning back.

"Territorial though.  At least over her kitchen."

"Accurate," Mistoffelees said with a laugh. "But a sweetheart nonetheless."

Tumble grinned, relaxing more than he had around other people since arriving, "Most of the people here are...well really nice."

"They are," Mistoffelees agreed with a frown as he settled on the table across from the other.

“And the way they gathered for Teazer tonight..."

"They support her," Mistoffelees said, plopping his chin down in his palm. "Because they care for her."

Tumble's expression grew slightly wistful, "Must be nice."

"I try not to think about it," Mistoffelees said, looking at the food and suddenly feeling like he wasn't hungry, even though he needed the food.

The Purple-Dusk warlord, nibbled at his food, "Martin's been at you about it again, hasn't he?"

"Of course he has," Mistoffelees replied. "What else would he be doing in his spare time?"

"What...what are you going to do?"

"What do you mean what am I going to do?" Mistoffelees asked, glancing back at him. "You ask that as if I'd have a choice in anything."

"Wh-what if we could find a way to have a choice though?"

Mistoffelees started at him for a long moment. "Why would you ask me that?" he said, sounding pained. "When I _can't_ have that choice."

Tumble winced slightly, "Because this place is starting to make me ask that q-question."

Mistoffelees scowled, looking down and turning the food on his plate around rather than eat it. "But we'll leave because we always do."

Dropping his gaze, Tumble sighed and nodded, "I know.  I just... I-I don't want to."

Burying his face in one golden brown hand, Mistoffelees took a deep breath. "I know."

"I've never..."  Tumble stopped before he said anything further, shaking his head.  "We'll leave because we have to.  We always do."

"Do you ever remember why we have to?" Mistoffelees asked, finally looking at him.

"Not usually," he answered.  "This court?  There's no way to forget why we'll have to leave it."

"Which is?" Mistoffelees asked. "Why will we have to leave? Why will it be so much harder to forget?"

"If all goes according to Martin's plan?"  Tumble finally looked up and met Mistoffelees' eyes, "There won't be a court with a Queen here."

Taking a deep breath, Mistoffelees looked away again. "Right," he managed past a thick throat.

"Are we ever going to actually be able to stay somewhere?"  Tumble asked quietly.

"I've never intended to," he said softly, still looking away.

"Neither did I." Tumble admitted, "Never, never thought I'd really want to either--much as I hate new rooms."

That comment made Mistoffelees smile faintly. "You always did hate to move," he murmured. "Whereas I could never wait to leave a place."

"I never know what's on the other side of a new door.  Not for at least a week, sometimes two," he murmured.  "But, no, you've never been one to stay in a single place."

Mistoffelees managed to eat a bite of the break he'd taken before putting it back down. "I just... I never thought I would want to."

Picking at his own food, the other nodded, "And now you do."

"I--" he started to protest. "I suppose I do."

Tumble opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut when the kitchen door opened, the Steward of the Court stepping in and arching a brow at them. Mistoffelees offered him a smile he couldn't feel. "Food?" he offered.

Coricopat's lips curled into a smile at that, "Are you sure Jenny's not going to step through that door?"

"Sh-she's gone to bed." Tumble assured him.

Nodding slightly at that, Coricopat stepped over to the cupboards and found something to eat, "What brings the two of you here at this hour?"

"Metabolism," Mistoffelees said. "You know the feeling I'm sure."

He nodded very slightly, "I do indeed.  You'll notice I'm locating food as well."

Tumblebrutus rose, "W-well, I think I-I'll retire.  G-good night, both of y-you."

“You can stay," Mistoffelees said quickly.

The warlord hesitated, glancing between the other two, "Y-you're sure?"

Coricopat nodded slightly, "Of course.  Feel free to stay."

"I would never run you out of a kitchen, Tumble, you should know better," Mistoffelees said, implication that he would be quite annoyed at anyone else who ever tried either.

Nodding very slightly, he settled back at the table, his eyes darting to Coricopat who sat down next to Mistoffelees.  The Steward glanced toward the warlord, "How are you settling in?"

His eyes widened slightly at that, "Q-quite well, th-thank you.  It's a... very nice court."

Looking back down at his food, Mistoffelees focused his attention there, half listening to what they were saying.

"Well, we do try," Coricopat offered, not quite certain how to respond to the comment about the court.

"It's h-hospitable," Tumble murmured, dropping his gaze and figuring it would probably be best if he didn't speak any more.

"And probably blunter than usual," Mistoffelees remarked, lifting a piece of cheese.

"Blunter?"  Coricopat arched an eyebrow at that.

"Well, between Jemima and Macavity... the Court is blunter than most," Mistoffelees said. "There's not as much," he hesitated, searching for the right word. "Court trained lairs."

The Steward smiled slightly at that, "Macavity and Jemima are two of the bluntest people one will ever meet, that I can assure you of.  As to court trained liars...we've no need of them.  It..."  He tried to figure out how to say what he was thinking.

"It m-means you're more willing a-and able to trust." Tumble murmured.

Mistoffelees shot him a long look before turning to Coricopat, wondering how he'd react to that.

Coricopat considered the warlord at that, "I would say it means the court is more honest with itself, not necessarily that we're more willing to trust."

Looking down again Mistoffelees reminded himself he wasn't eating because he was hungry but because in the last week he'd been eating so little and his Jewels had been burning through so much of his energy that he was starting to lose weight he couldn't afford again.

Tumble blinked slightly, but nodded.  Coricopat glanced at Mistoffelees, pausing for a moment, "Are you doing alright there?"

"Fine," he said, smiling easily and picking at the cheese again.

Tumblebrutus tilted his head at Mistoffelees, eying the cheese skeptically at the other's reply but he shook his head and rose again, "I'm f-feeling tired.  I'll b-bid you both a good night."

"Good night," Mistoffelees said quietly, suddenly dissatisfied with the cheese too but giving his friend a soft smile.

Coricopat offered a murmured "good night" and Tumble retreated, closing the door softly behind himself.  The Gray-Jeweled Prince considered the door for a moment before looking back at Mistoffelees, "Does he always stammer that much?"

"Around new people, yes," Mistoffelees said, considering the bread and jam Tumble had left. "Or, well, scary older people."

"Scary... You mean like his employer?" Coricopat asked before he thought about it, picking at his food.

"Martin is not particularly known for being anything but terrifying," Mistoffelees returned, comparing his intake to Coricopat's and sighing.

Pausing for a long moment, Coricopat finally spoke again, "No, he doesn't much seem to be one to accept anything less either."

Mistoffelees' eyes flashed as he looked over. "Don't," he started and bit his annoyance back, trying again. "Don't insult him."

"That...that wasn't meant as an insult, more an observation," Coricopat murmured, watching the other warily.

Mistoffelees took a deep breath, paying more attention to his plate before he abruptly decided he needed tea, rising and moving to the stove, a tongue of witch fire appearing under the kettle.

Running a hand through his black hair, Coricopat drew a deep breath and watched Mistoffelees for a moment, "He's more than an old lover isn't he."

He glanced over his shoulder, blinking at the Prince for a moment. "Old?" he asked and realized how that might sound, shaking his head. "It's complicated. I'm not just saying that but..."

"That was what you told me originally, or what he corrected you to," Coricopat murmured, sounding like he'd never believed it.  "How complicated?"

"Over a century complicated and then some," Mistoffelees said softly.

He paused, tracing the grain of the wood on the table for a long moment before shaking his head, "To each their own I suppose, I just don't see why you would."

"Why I would what?" Mistoffelees asked, realizing his hands were shaking slightly.

"Spend so long in a state of 'complicated' with him.  I mean, you, you have a kindness in you that as far as I can tell he's never had."  As soon as he said it, Coricopat wanted to take it back.

Mistoffelees gave him a half shocked look. "I think you're over estimating my kindness," he managed.

"Perhaps, but you've a shred of human decency in you," he answered.

"Are you saying he doesn't?" Mistoffelees asked, arching a brow up.

"I'm saying I've seen no evidence of it.  He puts me on edge and if his servant's response to people is any indication?  No, I don't believe he does."

"He saved me," Mistoffelees said quietly, watching Coricopat's face.

The Prince froze at that and it took him a moment to process that, "He what?"

"He saved me," Mistoffelees repeated, taking a shuddering breath to calm himself.

Drawing an unsteady breath, Coricopat carefully went back over their conversation, "Over a century...Terreille.  What-what happened?"

"You don't--" Mistoffelees started and the words came out before he could stop any of them. "The Queen... she decided to break me. It was almost time for the Offering and she got scared but... the bitch didn't know how. Neither she, nor her court, was powerful enough to snap my Jewels so she tried to break me like a witch by raping me instead. He--he got inside me and tried and almost---I fought back so hard but we were almost level and he could have gotten below my red and taken it away but," he took a deep breath, seeing the Queen's heart drop to the floor beside her and the other Warlord twisted around in pain and dead. "But Martin killed them instead. I made the Offering the next day and we were at the altar when the Purge went through the lands, and I walked out to see the world destroyed. There were so many dead, our former court had been all but decimated, and the Laden uprisings and revolts killed so many of the survivors--and I was there with the darkest Jewel and I _wanted_ to break. I didn't want the power I didn't want to be feared or hated, or know what I could do. I wanted to break and walk into the Twisted Kingdoms and not walk back out but--but he wouldn't let me," he said in a long rush, hands shaking so hard he almost dropped the kettle as he tried to turn his attention to making tea.

Coricopat went very still, eyes fixed on Mistoffelees.  He rose while the other was speaking, crossing the kitchen to stand nearer to the smaller man, his expression never changing.  His voice when he finally spoke was too even and the temperature had dropped, "You say Martin killed them?"

For a second Mistoffelees stared at him before nodding, the motion tiny.

"Did they suffer?"

Mistoffelees glanced away. "Slowly? No."

Coricopat's hands clenched and he drew a deep breath, trying to step back from the anger and finding it didn't work, but did manage to remind himself that a person did not have to die slowly in order to suffer.

Hesitating, Mistoffelees swallowed hard. "He phased the heart out of her chest," he managed.

"Good," the Gray-Jeweled Prince responded.  "She was the whoring bitch who caused those scars on your back as well." It really probably should have been a question, but he had little doubt as to the veracity of that assumption.

"Yes," Mistoffelees admitted, taking a deep breath. "It was--it was a life time ago for some."

"Not for anyone standing in this room," came the reply.

Realizing his hands were still shaking Mistoffelees finally nodded. "I suppose not."

Coricopat could feel his ager warming and he drew another deep breath before speaking again, "And he kept you from the Twisted Kingdom."

"Yes," Mistoffelees said, watching him carefully.

His tone shifted as his anger evened a bit further, "Do you still fear yourself so deeply as that?"

For a moment Mistoffelees didn't move. "Yes," he said finally, answer so quiet it was almost lost in the space of the kitchen.

Coricopat fought the urge to growl, shaking his head at that, "Is..."  He stopped, trying again, "What..."  He shook his head giving up on any further questions.

"What?" Mistoffelees frowned at him, feeling shaky and on edge as if one thing could tip him over it.

He sorted through the questions in his mind before finally settling on one, "What can I do for you?"

"What could you hope to do?" Mistoffelees returned, eyes narrowing.

Coricopat stared at him for a long moment, "That is practically just what I asked you."

For a second Mistoffelees looked like he'd actually been slapped. "No one's offered me their help before," he said, considering the other. "And you're still cold," he remarked, hesitating before reaching a hang out, lightly brushing his fingers across Coricopat's cheek. "I don't often see that in others."

Instinctively tilting his head into the touch, Coricopat kept his gaze on Mistoffelees' eyes, his voice thrumming down toward a growl, "No one?"

"Not like this," Mistoffelees said, touch becoming firmer, palm cupping the side of Coricopat's face.

"With no strings attached, you mean?"

"With an open ended offer to do whatever they could," Mistoffelees amended, though he didn't contradict Coricopat's statement either. "So why are you?"

"Must there always be a why?" Coricopat responded, relaxing slightly.

"No," Mistoffelees said after a moment with a frown. "But I feel there should be." He let out a breath he hadn't been holding when he felt the other relax.

He paused for a long moment before shaking his head, "If you must have a reason it's because I care what happens to you."

"And the why of that I certainly don't understand," he murmured.

"How many reasons do you want me to give?" Coricopat replied mutedly.

"Any," he said, brow wrinkling in confusion.

"It's difficult to give exact reasons.  I'll say again that you've a kindness about you, whether you think so or not.  You're also loyal to those who have earned your loyalty.  You're a rare gift, Mistoffelees."

For a second Mistoffelees stared at him. "I've never wanted to stay somewhere before or be loyal to anyone."

"Never?"  He brushed a hand over the other's cheek.

"Not since I was a child," Mistoffelees replied, tilting his chin back.

Coricopat processed the rest of what Mistoffelees had said, "But you're starting to?"

"If I am than that's what's scaring me," Mistoffelees replied.

"Would, would it really be so bad as that?"

"I don't know," he said, swallowing hard. "But the idea is what's scary, that I don't know."

"Are you willing to give it a chance?" he asked softly.

"What if that chance is what's scaring me?" Mistoffelees returned.

Coricopat paused at that, his hand moving to card through Mistoffelees' hair before leaning down to kiss him, "Then let me be here to help you."

When the other pulled back Mistoffelees stared at him for a long moment and finally nodded slightly, the motion jerky. The Prince traced his thumb under Mistoffelees' eye, touch gentling.

Swallowing hard, Mistoffelees took another breath and glanced at the table. "Should, should finish or clean up."

"Or both," Coricopat replied, though he didn't move.

Nodding more to himself, Mistoffelees turned back to the table. The Prince tilted his head on one side, gaze skimming over the other man's form, "Mistoffelees, have you been eating enough?"

"What?" he said, turning back on his heel in shock.

He hesitated, "You...you look like you've lost weight.  And you really don't have it to lose."

Blinking, Mistoffelees took a breath. "I've been eating, you know. It's just... part of wearing the Black Jewel."

"I didn't ask if you were eating.  I asked if you were eating enough," Coricopat reminded.

"I can never really eat enough," he murmured. "The metabolism it takes to keep up with the black," he shook his head slightly. "It's hard, is all."

"But surely you know what is needed to keep from having to use what reserves you have in your own body by now."

"Usually," Mistoffelees admitted and sighed. "But that also means always being on top of it, and stress off balances everything."

Coricopat considered him for a long moment, "You know Jenny understands the metabolisms and might let you have more between meals if you asked her."

Mistoffelees hesitated. "Really?"

"Probably.  Jenny, as protective of her kitchen as she is, is a relatively motherly type all things considered.  And I mean that in a good way."

Hesitating again Mistoffelees tried to remember if he had ever known his mother. "I'm sure that's a good thing," he managed weakly.

Coricopat set to work on cleaning up the kitchen a bit, glancing at the other, "But if you do need something you might check with her."

"I'll try," Mistoffelees said, lifting the plates and making sure they were washed.

Drying the dishes, Coricopat put them away, starting for the door and pausing there.

Mistoffelees watched him before giving the kitchen another look and arching a brow at Coricopat. Coricopat dimmed the lamps, opening the kitchen door, "Where are you sleeping tonight?"

"I don't know," he replied, ducking his head down slightly.

"I...alright," the Prince murmured, stepping out of the room and holding the door for Mistoffelees.

"Alright?" Mistoffelees asked, following him and stopping.

"Where you sleep is your decision.  You're always welcome in my room, but if you would prefer not to the option is there for you," Coricopat answered, keeping his expression even.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Mistoffelees considered him a long moment, frown between his brows and unsure how to react.

Drawing a deep breath, Coricopat spoke again, "I, personally, would like to hold you tonight.  To assure myself that you're here, but if you need a retreat..."

Mistoffelees blinked. "If I was retreating I'd leave the realm," he said before he could think about how wise that statement was.

The Prince stilled at that before holding out a hand to Mistoffelees, "In that case, join me tonight?"

Wavering another moment, Mistoffelees accepted Coricopat's hand, nodding as he did so. "Yes." Coricopat drew him closer, curling an arm around Mistoffelees loosely, and started toward his room for the night.


	9. Than I Shall Finish It

Macavity stood at the bottom of the staircase, rocking back and forth on his heels, waiting for Teazer. He'd already been out to the training yard and showered and was starting to remember how much he disliked anticipation. It made him jittery.

Teazer came down the stairs a few minutes later, her hair tied back and the Opal Jewel around her neck.  She offered Macavity a bit of a grin as she reached his side, "I take this to mean you're ready to go?"

"If you are," he said, pivoting gracefully on one heel to face her.

Smiling at that she inclined her head, "I very certainly am.  Shall we be off?"

He hesitated before offering her his arm. "Have you thought about where you would like to go? I've called around a carriage."

Slipping her arm through his, she nodded slightly, "The jeweler in Dhemlan was the one who set my Rose Jewel.  I was thinking of going to him again."

"If I drive on the red winds we should get there rather early still," Macavity said, nodding.

"Wonderful."  She glanced up at him, starting for the door, "Do you have any thoughts on the setting?"

"Gold, probably," he said, glancing at her coloring. "Something simple but feminine but not too over the top. You're a Black Widow yeah? So elegant but not flashy."

"A Black Widow who still can't get her history lessons right," Teazer muttered, wrinkling her nose, but nodded.  "A simple gold setting could certainly work for it."

"I said elegant too," Macavity said and pulled at the chain to get a better look at the Opal. "But certainly gold. Silver suits Sonya, it wouldn't suit you. Besides, is history really the most important thing to your schooling?"

"Maybe not the most important, but it is important.  I just...I get pieces of it, but I swear Jemima's had to give me the same lecture a half-dozen times."

Macavity smiled faintly. "Well, you'll get it. It's the ideas that matter the most, right? Maybe you just need to hear it from someone else too."

Her lips curled upward into a smile at that, "Are you offering?"

"That means I'd have to know it too," he pointed out before pivoting again and leading the way toward the door.

She laughed, following him, "Alright, that's a good point.  Maybe hearing it a couple more times will make it stick finally."

He laughed, shaking his head slightly. "That's always the hope, innit?"

"Just about," they reached the carriage and she glanced at him again.  "Thank you for coming with me."

"Better to go with someone that alone," he said and considered. "You wanna ride in the back or up with the driver?"

"With the driver I think," she answered. Grinning, he opened up the drivers compartment, bowing her inside it before hopping in after her. She laughed and once he had closed the compartment again slid a little closer to him, "It's been a while since I've been to Dhemlan."

"Do you like it there?" he asked. "Or just too busy with your studies?"

"Mostly too busy with my studies.  I also don't much like going on my own, and so don't get to go often even when I have the time," Teazer answered, settling back against the seat.

Macavity arched a brow. "Well, you should work on getting more people invested in going then."

"Maybe I'll have to look into that a bit more.  I mean, it's not really all that important."

He glanced at her and rolled his shoulder. "Is there anywhere else you might like to go today then?"

"Specifically?  Not that immediately comes to mind.  I mean, there's a couple of shops that I like--mostly just to browse," she answered with a shrug.

"Well, such as?" Macavity asked, glancing over with a smile. "Books, dresses, floral arrangements? I mean what here?"

She bit her lip, grinning, "Well, yes there's a nice clothing shop, but there's a sweets store not far from the jeweler's too."

"Sweets, huh?" he asked, eyes sliding over with a smile. "And here I'm used to Jemima's insistence that a day without a bookstore is a wasted day. Personally, I prefer the sweets myself."

"Bookstores are all well and good, but we've got an entire library that I've hardly touched," Teazer shook her head. "So sweets.  How about you?  Anything you'd be interested in looking for?"

"Not really," he said, looking over at her and trying not to smile too obviously.

She grinned at him slightly, "Well, if you think of anything let me know?"

"I'll be sure to," he promised. "I'm not known for being quiet about things."

She laughed lightly, "I hate to break it to you, but I'm pretty sure no one believes that of you.”

"You'd be surprised then how little they act like it," Macavity amended.

"Eh, people forget.  They think everyone should think and act like they do," she wrinkled her nose.  "Frankly I think that'd get really boring really fast."

"You'd think so," Macavity remarked mildly. "And yet, people still think that forgetting is wise.”

"Speaking of differences..."  Teazer paused for a moment before speaking again, "What do you think of Mistoffelees and the other two arrivals?"

"Are you grouping Mistoffelees with the other arrivals?" Macavity asked, glancing over.

"No?  Maybe?  Mostly no.  I'm just curious what you think of any of them."

"Well what do you think of any of them?" Macavity returned. "At the very least, there's quite a few of them."

"I asked first," she protested, but shook her head and considered before answering.  "I like Mistoffelees well enough.  I mean, he's terrifying, but in a way that's rooted in his Jewel power.  He's...even with that there's something about him that's more approachable.  Tumblebrutus seems skittish and Martin," she shivered.  "I try not to think about him."

Macavity managed not to snort. "I think there's plenty of people trying their damnest not to think about Martin. Thing that worries me is him and Mistoffelees knowing each other so well. The guy's usually only scary when you realize he could take out our entire court and probably only break a sweat doing it, but when you realize he's been around someone as scary as Smith for probably at least a century, it makes you wonder about him."

"Makes me wonder about Smith too," she admitted softly.  "If you watch them in the same space, the way they interact and react."

"How do they interact?" Macavity asked, glancing over.

"It's...it's subtle, but between the two of them I'd almost say Smith is calling shots," she murmured.

"Really?" he asked, interest and instincts honing in on that. Quickly he sorted through his memories of them and realized that the conclusion was not far off from what he saw.

Teazer nodded, "It's in the way they move around one another.  It's like, it's like Mistoffelees closes off entirely whenever he's there."

Leaning back, Macavity considered for a long moment. "So the man's servant is the most terrified creature I've ever seen, and he causes someone much darker than him to shut down. That is really not inspiring. Unless you find inspiration in terror that is."

Pausing for a moment, she spoke quietly, "You never did tell me your take on them."

Macavity huffed. "You're persistent. I'm never sure what I think of them. I don't trust Martin and for a while I thought I was starting to trust the other but now I'm not so sure. And I'm not just reacting because they could both take me out, though Sonya and Coricopat have both already implied that. It's more than that. It's the fact they're both so damned quiet and Tumblebrutus is one scared Warlord. Something's wrong. It might be nothing, it could be everything. But I want to respect Mistoffelees, and I want to toss Martin Smith out on his ass. Them together is just worrying at best, destructive at worst."

Running her finger over her Opal Jewel, Teazer nodded slightly again, "What are we supposed to do though?"

"Damned if I know," he said, shaking his head. "I haven't wanted to talk to Coricopat about this, or my Queen, but I have a feeling it's going to come down to that Warlord Prince choosing. Between us and Martin and while he seems to enjoy being bedded I'm not sure that's going to be enough to counteract that history."

"We don't even know what that history entails, but I'm worried you're right.  And the fact that we don't know what Martin is...well, after, adds a whole other level to that concern."

"We know Martin's a scary bastard," Macavity pointed out, landing the carriage and popping out, holding a hand back to help Teazer down.

Taking his hand she alighted from the carriage, looking around, "We do.  I just wish we knew more than that."

"So do I," he agreed. "But we work with what we have, we always do. And we do our damnest to protect."

She slipped her arm through his and started toward the jeweler's, "And that's really all that can be done."

"Yes," he said, taking a breath and smiling down at her. "But today should be about happier tidings."

"Right, happier things."  She offered him a smile, "So the jeweler's and then the sweet shop?"

"Definitely," he agreed, laughing. "The sweet's shop will make everything right."

She tucked back a lock of hair that had come loose, grinning, "And we've got the day to ourselves, right?  No need to hurry back?"

"No need to hurry back," he assured, opening the door to the jewelers and looking around. There weren't many costumers out and he could feel the line of his shoulders relax slightly as they made their way up to the counter.

Teazer's gaze swept around the shop as the Jeweler looked up from his work, "Can I help you?"

The young woman nodded, crossing the shop to speak with him, "Yes, I rather hope so.  I'm looking for a new setting."

Macavity kept his eyes scanning around the shop as he approached the counter, leaning against it to consider the man's other works. "Got talent here," he remarked.

"I should hope I do, all the time I spend working to culture it," the man responded, gaze flickering over to the Warlord Prince before returning to Teazer.  "What are we re-setting?"  She hesitated, before slipping the Opal over her head and putting it on the counter between them, calling her Rose in automatically.  His gaze flickered to the Rose Jewel briefly, "I set that one too, didn't I?"

Teazer nodded, "Yes.  It's why I brought you the Opal."

Macavity smiled at that, peering at the Opal jewel again and considering it. "Gold again?" he asked, tilting his head.

The jeweler considered the Opal, glancing from it to Teazer a couple of times, "Yes, I think so.  Leave the stone as it is, though I believe.  A gold setting, nothing to extravagant?"  Teazer nodded her agreement and he smiled before sketching a rough idea of a possible setting.

Looking at it, Macavity glanced up at Teazer, watching for her expression. She tilted her head at the sketch.  It was simple, yet decidedly feminine and would suit the Jewel.  Pausing for a moment, she finally nodded, "I think that would work."

"You sure?" Macavity asked. "I mean, I like it, but you're going to be wearing it for a while."

Teazer traced her fingers along the edges of the sketch, still considering it before pointing to a couple of spots, "I think a softer curve here and here?"  The Jeweler considered that and adjusted the sketch.  Tilting her head to consider it again, Teazer finally nodded slightly, "I like it.  It certainly suits the Jewel.  And...I think it suits me?"

Tilting his head, Macavity indicated a swirl at the very bottom of the setting, not large enough to be an annoyance, and fitting with the general curve of the design, but unique and with a bit of cheeky personality.

Teazer's lips curled upward at that, "I like that bit."

"Good," Macavity said, corner of his mouth curling up. "Because _that_ suits you."

She grinned, a spark of mischief lighting her eyes.  The jeweler glanced between them, "So this will be the setting then?"  Teazer nodded and the man rolled up the sketch, "Very good.  I'll get to work on that, then."

"That was surprisingly painless," Macavity said in some surprise.

The jeweler glanced at Macaivty, one eyebrow arching, his hazel eyes behind blinking once from behind his spectacles, "Were you expecting otherwise?"

"Considering who usually drags me shopping, yes," Macavity deadpanned back at him.

The other man chuckled, "Well, I do hope you enjoy your day with someone who doesn't usually drag you shopping.  Good day, Lady, Prince."

"She's better company," Macavity assured the Jeweler before inclining his head. "Good day as well," he said before glancing down at Teazer and offering her his arm.

"Good day," she murmured to the jeweler before slipping her arm through Mac's.  "Shall we then?"

"Sweet shop?" he said, eyes brightening at the idea.

Grinning, she nodded, "Sweet shop.  Just up the road."

"Oh good," he said. "I wasn't sure I could handle a very long walk after all that intense jewelry discussion," he paused, considering a bracelet near the door.

She laughed, glancing toward the bracelet and raising her eyebrows.  It was a very nice piece of work he was considering.  She tugged on his arm very slightly, "Well, come on then.  They have some of the best sweets I've ever tasted there."

Putting the idea of jewelry out of his mind, but marking the design he nodded, shoulders tensing again when they entered the street, eyes moving up and down. Teazer's hand tightened slightly on his arm as they made their way down the street, slipping between small groups of people all caught up in their own business.

"You okay?" he asked, glancing down.

She nodded slightly, "Seems strange, only having it for a day and yet having the Rose around my neck rather than the Opal is less reassuring."  Teazer rolled a shoulder as they reached the sweet shop, "I've had the Rose for so long, you wouldn't expect that would you?"

"Once you make the Offering though, that's your power," Macavity said. "And you want to use it."

She nodded, hand ghosting over her Rose Jewel, "I do.  The Rose feels...too light."

"You'll have the Opal back soon enough," he said, wishing he had the eyes to look up and down the entire street.

Glancing up at him, Teazer put her hand on the door to the sweet shop, "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," he assured. "Just, something feels off in the air."

"Alright..." She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Scanning the room, he followed her, looking at the fudge and around at the costumers, something scraping at the edge of his temper. Teazer kept close to him, even as she moved between the displays of sweets, stopping by the peppermints. "Peppermints?" he asked, peering over her shoulders.

She tilted her head back to look at him, "Is there something wrong with peppermints?"

"Well," he said, not quite pulling a face. "It's peppermint. I mean, peppermint fudge I might be able to understand."

Laughing, Teazer shook her head, "Fudge is good and all, but it's just a little too rich.  I like the zip of peppermint."

"Zip?" he repeated and laughed. "That's one way to put it."

"I take it you don't care for it then?"  She grinned up at him.

"I'm all for a little zip," he shrugged. "But I prefer the smooth, silky darkness that comes from a good dark chocolate or fudge. It's all about how the flavor seeps through, and the deep satisfaction from it," he said, voice lowering and not quite becoming the croon Mistoffelees had but veering dangerously close.

Teazer stared at him, almost entranced by that, her breath hushed when she spoke, "You make it sound positively sinful."

"Isn't it?" he asked, arching one brow at her.

"I don't think I've ever heard chocolate described quite like that," she answered.

"You haven't been listening to the right people then," he purred, leaning back to shift through a shelf, displaying a packet of dark chocolate fudge, small chunks of peppermint in it. "This," he declared. "The best of both worlds hopefully."

Her eyes moved to the package, "They make the best sweets here, so...so it should be."

He smirked, reaching for another one. "Maybe two," he decided.

"Two it is then.  Do we want anything else?"  Her gaze tracked back to his face.

"Depends," he said with another faint smirk. "Do you think this will suffice?"

Her lips curled into a smile and she nodded, "I think chocolate and peppermint sounds like a perfect combination and will do just right."

"Good," he said, and glanced around. "Though, if we walked in here and don't bring anything back for the Queen and your teacher, they might skin us both alive."

She sighed slightly, "Oh I suppose that's true."

"Well, for the sake of not pissing off the females I live with," Macavity said and peered at several of the boxes before picking up several small collections of chocolate.

Teazer considered the selections, nodding slightly, "I think those will do well enough, and we should be fine if we bring those back for them."

"Because I, for one, would not enjoy Jemima's face when we returned with no chocolate for her. I think it would lead to murder," Macavity said with a nod.

"And we should do everything to prevent that, because frankly the last thing we need is my mentor causing that," she answered, slipping her arm through his again.

"Exactly," Macavity nodded. "She's scary when she's angry," he said, walking up to the counter. "And I'd hate to be dead."

"And I would hate for you to be dead," Teazer nodded, following him up to the counter so they could pay for the sweets.

"Well that's all sorts of reassuring," he said, not mentioning that if it ever came down between them he would die before he would let harm come to her. Paying at the counter he vanished the boxes of chocolate before heading toward the door.

Teazer followed him, considering how long they'd spent in the sweet shop, "Where do we think we should go next?"

"Where would you like?" he asked, suddenly stopping as he felt power gather on the street, throwing up a red bubble shield in front of both of them as power came flying down the street, causing several passerbys to scatter. Looking around, his temper rising to the killing edge he finally tracked the attacker, taking off after them down the street.

Teazer's hand closed around her Rose Jewel and she paused for a long moment before pushing past the other people on the street after Macavity and keeping her attention on any gathering power and her best route to avoid it.

Macavity had left a red shield around her before he took off, using a burst of power to drive the attacker off his feet, allowing Macavity to catch up to him. Rolling over and throwing up a shield, the attacker got to his feet to face the Warlord Prince.

"You'd better have a damn good reason," Macavity crooned, head tilted, hand curled around his upper arm, red jewel glittering in the ring he wore.

He stilled, eyes wide as his gaze locked with Macavity's, "You wouldn't accept any reason given."

"Probably not," Macavity agreed, eyes glazed.

"I-I was hired."

"Hired?" Macavity repeated, incredulous before he slammed the Warlord against the nearest shop wall. "Hired by whom and to do what?"

"Do I need you?" Yes and no. "Do I want you?" maybe so

The warlord struggled slightly, "I don't know.  I was just told to keep an eye out and aim for people from certain courts."

"Which courts?" Macavity growled, moving him away from the wall enough to slam him back.

He froze again, looking the Warlord Prince over, "Y-yours for one."

"Whose else?" Macavity growled, eyes still glazed over, predator obvious in every movement he made.

"Cassandra, the Sapphire Queen.  And Electra with the Green Jewel," he answered quickly.

Macavity snarled. "Anything else you want to tell me?" he crooned.

His eyes widened, "Nothing else to t-tell."

"Good," Macavity said, slamming his power against the other man's inner barriers, riffling around quickly for any information he might still be hiding, ignoring any harm he might be inflicting.

The warlord screamed, struggling and hurling all his Jewel strength into defense but the barriers were crumbling fast under the onslaught. Finding what he wanted, Macavity jerked out of the man's mind, destroying it with a blast of power. The man fell limp as Teazer finally reached them, stopping several yards away.

Macavity pivoted on one heel, stalking toward her and grabbing her arm, dragging her down the street, shields still up in force. "Time to go home," he said, trying to treat her carefully but still riding the killing edge.

She didn't draw away, but she watched him with wide eyes, "Mac...?"

"What?" he managed, still moving them both quickly down the street.

"Why did he--?"  Teazer paused, not entirely sure either how to finish the question or if she could finish it.

"I don't know," Macavity replied. "At least it doesn't make damned sense."

"What did you find out?"

"Not that much more than what Mistoffelees got, except that it's more than time to see about confronting this issue, and that it's not just Griddlebone's court."

She hesitated at that, "So they're targeting more than one court.  What...what's to be done?"

"I don't know yet," he said as they reached the carriage, opening the door and depositing her in the passenger compartment and red shielding it to better protect her so that he could ride the winds back to the palace as quickly as possible.

Teazer swore softly under her breath, settling back in the passenger compartment for the ride home.

-0-

Coricopat made his way through the corridors of the palace, finally locating Jemima in her workshop and tapping lightly on the doorframe. Jemima paused, finishing the last line of power on the web before rising and opening the door part way, opening it fully when she saw who it was. "You look like you had an interesting night."

The Steward looked almost as exhausted as he felt, though his back was rigid and his eyes still held a spark of his emotions from the night before, "We need to talk.  It concerns Mistoffelees."

"Come to my suite," she said, closing her work room down and locking the door behind her before leading the way down the hall. "It's better to talk there."

He drew a deep breath and followed her, entering the suite on her heels, "Mother Night, Jemima.  It's...it's worse than I could have imagined."

"Worse how?" she asked, shutting the door behind them when they entered the room.

"He...I don't even know where to begin."  He leaned heavily against the wall, "He's terrified of himself.  To the point where he _wanted_ to escape into the Twisted Kingdom following the Purge and his Offering."

"He, what?" she blinked at him. "Slow down and try to give me the overreaching context to that statement. Are you saying he made his Offering at the time of that purge?"

Coricopat nodded, drawing a shaky breath, "He...He was at the Altar when the purge went through."

"Well, at least he was protected," Jemima said, trying to recall stories she'd heard of that time. "But so many Blood died... and where he was it must have been almost wiped out. And then the Laden uprisings..."

Nodding again, Coricopat looked pained, "He...he was so close, so ready to break.  Martin kept him from doing so.  Saved him before the Offering as well."

"Saved him?" Jemima repeated, disbelief evident in her eyes.

"His Birthright is Red.  The," Coricopat drew a deep breath and pulled his temper back under his control at the thought, "the Queen whose Court he was in tried to break him before he could make the Offering."

Jemima took a deep breath. "That was a time when Sadi and Yasala were a threat to the realms. It makes sense to be frightened of a male with that power. But he's..." she shook her head, remembering the few times she caught him out in a joke or when he smiled in genuine happiness. "So Martin saved him from that Queen? No wonder neither of them seem comfortable around someone of that caste. Mistoffelees keeps looking at Griddlebone like he has no idea what to make of her."

"It also explains his loyalty to Martin," he murmured.  "He's still completely terrified of himself."

Jemima opened her mouth to mention Martin and Mistoffelees' co-dependence and stopped. "He's still scared of himself? He's been living with that power at least a century. Longer still with the red."

Coricopat nodded, "I know.  But if you'd seen him last night, heard him last night, there's no doubt in my mind that he was honest when he told me as much."

Sitting down, multi colored skirt pooling around her, Jemima took a deep breath. "Is he alright this morning?"

Coricopat slid down the wall, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his crossed arms on his knees, "I haven't seen him yet this morning.  I woke in the middle of the night with his nightmares, but he was gone before I woke again this morning."

"His nightmares?" Jemima echoed and shook her head. "So he has nightmares. You haven't seen him at all?"

"Not since daybreak," Coricopat answered with a soft sigh.

She hesitated, weighing how much to pry. "What are his nightmares about? Do you know?"

"I can take guesses, but he doesn't speak of them," the Gray-Jeweled Prince answered quietly.

She nodded, still trying to work through that. "And you think he fears himself? Because of the power or how and when he got it?"

"Both if I had to take a guess.  I think the how and when strongly contribute to why he fears himself, but the power is certainly a large factor."

Jemima took a deep breath. "I couldn't imagine someone like him in the Twisted Kingdoms. That power with so little control? I know there have been powerful Blood there before, and Darkness knows Macavity got too close when he was younger. But there's something innocent and vicious about Mistoffelees that would..." she shook her head before finishing. "He's not innocent but I wish he was, for our sakes as much as his."

Coricopat nodded slightly, resting his chin on his arms, his gaze focused on the floor, "I know. I...Hellsfire."

Jemima watched him closely. "Do you love him?"

"Damn me for it, but I believe I do," the Steward murmured.

She took a deep breath, remembering the tangled web that had made her ask Griddlebone to accept him into the court. "Why damn you for it?"

Coricopat raised his eyes to look at her, "You can't be serious?  Do you honestly think there's any wisdom in such a thing?"

"Wisdom? Maybe not. But would it be so bad?" she asked, hands curling around the edge of the chair she was sitting in as she watched him.

"The thought of staying somewhere, or even so much as wanting to stay somewhere frightens him," he offered by way of a half-answer.

"The best things in life are those that scare us before we do them," she pointed out. "Would it be so bad to give him a reason to stay?"

His lips curled upward very slightly, though the expression didn't touch his eyes, "No, it, it really wouldn't."

"Then why are you so damned scared too?" she demanded, watching his eyes.

"Because I'm not a reason for anyone to stay," he answered before he thought about it.

"And why is that?" she pressed.

He blinked at her for a long moment, looking taken aback, "Which deficiency do you want me to offer as an answer?  The fact that I live behind my desk or the fact that my ability to deal with any form of emotion is in exact concert with my desire to run away from it?  I'm sure I could find more if you would like me to.  There are far better than I."

"But what if he wants you?" she cut through his protests. "Cori, what if someone out there thinks you’re worth it. Do you think he's had a lot of people he's opened up to?"

"I'm good for bedding, Jemima, but not as a reason to stay," Coricopat murmured, hearing what she said but not responding to it.

"Do I need to hit you to get that point across?" she replied shortly.

His jaw tensed, "Jemima, even if I was a reason, even if he does want me, I would rather not expect him to stay just to watch him leave.  No, I highly doubt there are more than a small handful of people he's ever opened up to, but what do you expect me to do?"

"Fight to keep him," she replied simply, not adding she hoped he would fight to save the other too.

The Steward's grey eyes narrowed, "And how am I supposed to do that?"

She suppressed another sigh. "I don't know. You just do it. Cling to his damned ankles if you have to."

"Yes because that's always so effective."  He shook his head, "Alright, I hear you, and I'll...do my best."

"Good," she declared firmly. "Because you're both going to be worth this, Coricopat."

He looked briefly skeptical at that, but finally nodded and rose, "If you say so."

"I do say so," Jemima replied, tone still firm. "And you should listen. I not only have experience, but the ability to see into tangled webs to back me up."

He offered her a faint half-smile, "I suppose I should take your word for it then."

"Damned right you should, boyo," she declared, entirely serious.

Coricopat nodded slightly, "I will then.  I do need to get downstairs and actually start work for the day now, though.  Good day, Jemima."

"Good day," she said, managing not to whack him upside the head on his way out, mulling over what he'd told her about Mistoffelees.

Closing the door softly behind him, the Prince retreated to his study, leaving the door ajar as a silent offer to anyone who felt a pressing need to speak with him.

Mistoffelees approached the door, stopping before Coricopat could physically see him standing outside it. He'd eaten nothing at breakfast, trying to ignore the way that Martin had been watching him across the table. Turning the black chip ring around on his finger several times he finally shoved his hands in his pockets, breezing into the office.

Coricopat looked up from the letter he was composing, setting his pen aside when he saw who it was, "Morning, Mistoffelees."

"Good morning," he replied softly, trying not to think about the expression that had been in Coricopat's eyes the night before when the Prince had soothed him back into bed.

"How are you doing this morning?" the other murmured, his desire to protect Mistoffelees however he was able sharpening with the other's presence.

"Well enough," he said, frowning at the slight change in the air, currents of power swirling between them still. "Yourself? I didn't see you at breakfast." Not that he had stayed very long.

Coricopat shook his head, "I'm doing, as you say, well enough.  I had some business to attend to and missed breakfast."

"You shouldn't miss meals," Mistoffelees said faintly, not really one to talk about regularly eating enough food to keep up with his metabolism.

The Steward gave him a long look at that, "I'm well aware.  Time got away from me this morning is all."

"Do you want me to get you something?" Mistoffelees asked, gesturing to the door.

"I..." Blinking at him for a long moment, Coricopat considered, "There's no need to put yourself out."

"Do you have extra fat to lose?" Mistoffelees returned, phrasing it as a question but saying it more like a statement.

"No more than you do," he replied simply.  "But I can get something for myself just as easily."

"It was just an offer," Mistoffelees returned, trying not to sound defensive about it, hand coming up to fiddle with the earring stud he wore with a Black Jewel chip in it, and trying not of act as nervous as he was feeling.

Coricopat blinked at him again, "And I didn't mean to undercut that.  Thank you for the offer, but I'm alright.  Is...is there something I can do for you?"

"No," he replied, physically shying away as he said it.

"I..."  He rose carefully, watching the other's reactions as he circled the desk to lean against it.

"You?" Mistoffelees returned, watching him.

"Is concern over my absence at breakfast the only reason you came to see me?"

"Do I really need a reason to come see you?" he countered. "And that's not what you were originally going to say."

"Well, no of course you don't.  And, I wasn't really sure what I was originally going to say, so that serves as well as anything," Coricopat rejoined.

Mistoffelees frowned at him. "Oh."

"Oh?" Coricopat crossed his legs at the ankles, resting his hands back on his desk.

Glancing away, Mistoffelees shrugged. "Well, if I should let you get back to your work."

The Steward blinked at that, "Oh, no, nothing here must be done at the moment.  I dealt with that earlier.  It's just some general correspondence now, really."

"Oh," Mistoffelees repeated, and shifted again, trying to shake the nightmares out of his head still. "Then," he started and stopped.

"Then?" Coricopat prompted quietly, gaze never leaving the other.

"Then," he swallowed and shook his head. "I should just go, I'm sorry."

The Steward looked briefly like he'd been struck, but he shook his head, straightening, "You don't need to leave so soon.  You're always welcome in here, I, I suppose I just don't usually expect people to come to my study."

"Even when they're sleeping with you?" Mistoffelees asked, tiny furrow appearing between his brows.

He winced slightly at that, "Even then."

Mistoffelees let out a long breath. "Anything you'd like to share?" he asked.

"I..." Coricopat hesitated for a long moment, "It's ridiculous insecurities is all."

"I think I told you more than ridiculous insecurities last night," Mistoffelees said softly. "I'd like to hear them."

The Gray Jeweled Prince shifted to wrap his arms around his waist as he tried to form any sort of sentence to explain them, "My last lover was... not conducive to much self-esteem I suppose.  I was good enough to bed, but it seems that was about it.  As to coming to my study?  Never did he do so without a specific thought, plan, or manipulation in mind so far as I know." He drew a breath, glancing toward one of the lamps in the room, "There, there really isn't much to say."

"Just because it doesn't take time to say doesn't make it unimportant," Mistoffelees said and hesitated before moving to the door, closing it behind him and cautiously approaching the other again.

Coricopat's gaze darted from the now closed door to Mistoffelees, "I, I didn't actually say it was unimportant."

"You act like you wish it was," Mistoffelees pointed out, stopping a hands breath away from the Steward.

"I hate that he still dictates how I respond to people, how I see myself," he admitted quietly, looking down at the other man.

"Do you think I'm like him?" Mistoffelees asked, watching his expression.

"I know you're not," came the murmured response.  "It doesn't keep me from the occasional doubt."

"I came by because I ran away this morning," Mistoffelees replied. "And I wanted to see you."

Coricopat swallowed at that, raising a hand to brush it against Mistoffelees' cheek, "I...I still don't understand why.  But I can accept that."

Tilting his head into the touch, Mistoffelees took a breath. "What don't you understand?" He had never tried to explain himself to anyone before.

"Why you would want to," he answered mutedly, but honestly.

"To," Mistoffelees hesitated. "Come and see you?"

Coricopat nodded after a moment, "Yes."

Swallowing, Mistoffelees shook his head slightly. "After everything I've said to you?"

"I understand why, somewhat.  I just...I told you, they're insecurities.  They're unreasonable ones, but they're there," his hand moved slightly to comb through Mistoffelees' black hair as they spoke.

"Then you should see about exchanging them for some reasonable ones," Mistoffelees replied, pushing his head up into Coricopat's hand like a cat, gold eyes still trained on his face.

"Is there such a thing as a reasonable insecurity?" Coricopat asked, his thumb tracing the shell of Mistoffelees' ear absently.

"Perhaps not," he said swallowing. "And I hate to undermine everything I just said about coming to see you because I wanted to, but I can't help but notice how entirely sturdy your desk is."

That garnered a quiet laugh, "It wasn't the first thing out of your mouth, so I'd say it didn't undermine it."  He leaned down to kiss the other man, "It is rather a sturdy desk."

"Hell's fire," Mistoffelees muttered into the kiss. "Do you know every time I come in here and Macavity or Sonya is saying something important I just look at it and think about testing it out?"

Coricopat's arm slipped around Mistoffelees, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss at that.  He kept enough presence of mind to vanish the things on his desk rather than worry about them before directing his full attention back to the Warlord Prince.

Mistoffelees laughed when he noticed all the things disappear. "Well that's a vote in favor," he rumbled, leaning up on his toes to stretch his entire body against Coricopat, fingers holding onto his shoulders.

Breath catching, Coricopat smirked and tilted his head down so his breath ghosted over Mistoffelees' ear, "Well, I never said I was against it."

"That's good," Mistoffelees breathed. "Because I was going crazy day dreaming about this desk."

Coricopat's lips curled into a smile, close enough to Mistoffelees' ear to be felt, "Well, what say we give you something to remember about it rather than just fantasies?"

Rumbling deep in his chest, Mistoffelees shifted against him, tilting his ear slightly into that touch, hair falling away from it. Focusing his mouth on Coricopat's shoulder, he planted several kisses there as his fingers pulled at the buttons on his shirt.

Fingers moving deftly to unbutton Msitoffelee's vest, Coricopat nipped very lightly at the shell of the other man's ear, licking the spot before repeating the pattern, tracing around the edge of the ear.

Moaning softly, Mistoffelees pushed his shirt off. "What's the fascination with my ear?"

"Testing waters," he replied as he finished with all of the buttons on the vest and shirt and slid both off of Mistoffelees' shoulders.  "I could stop if you wanted," he hadn't moved his lips away, his warm breath whispering across Mistoffelees' skin.

"No that's fine," he said a little breathlessly, shrugging out of his vest and curling both his hands around Coricopat's waist, pulling them together. A quiet groan caught in Coricopat's throat at that, his hands moving to Mistoffelees' hips, massaging there.

Grinning Mistoffelees stepped back finally, pushing Coricopat away from the desk to hop up onto it, facing the other as he red locked the door, pulling Coricopat back between his knees.

Coricopat leaned in to kiss Mistoffelees again, one of his hands stroking down the smaller man's thigh. Opening his mouth under Coricopat's, Mistoffelees shifted up, wrapping his arms around his neck and holding him there.

Moaning softly against the kiss, Coricopat trailed his hand around to work at the fastenings of Mistoffelees' pants while still running his other hand over the Warlord Prince's leg.

Wrapping said legs around Coricopat's waist, Mistoffelees smirked against the kiss, vanishing his pants rather than wait for Coricopat to figure it out. After another breath he decided rather than bother with coordination, he vanished Coricopat's pants too. Coricopat chuckled against the kiss, the sound settling deep in the back of his throat.  His fingers slipped along Mistoffelees' waist to ghost up and down his spine.

Groaning into the touch, Mistoffelees arched his back, carefully shifting slightly so Coricopat wouldn't run into the few whip scars and otherwise focusing on the feel of his fingertips. Tracing his fingers deftly over the other's skin, Coricopat carefully avoided where he knew the whip marks to be and allowed Mistoffelees' motion to guide him a bit more in that action.  He drew away from the kiss in order to turn his attention to the other man's throat, kissing and nipping there lightly. Chuckling, Mistoffelees traced his hands down Coricopat's chest, pausing every once and a while to peruse a spot that caused a tiny gasp to escape the other.

Breathe growing ragged, Coricopat shifted his hands to Mistoffelees' inner thighs, massaging them gently as he worked up from the other's knees. Letting go of the tightly coiled sexual heat all Warlord Princes had, Mistoffelees fell backwards on the desk, dragging Coricopat with him.

Coricopat moaned as he followed Mistoffelees, supporting himself on his forearms over the other as he leaned his head down enough to capture the smaller man's lips in a biting kiss.

Leaning back and trying to suppress his nightmares with the feel of Coricopat over him and the battle their mouths were engaged in, Mistoffelees barely even noticed he was laid out on his back, focused instead on every other movement, checking quickly that shields were in place before returning all his attention to driving the Steward crazy in his own office.

When he succeeded, he sprawled over the space of the large desk, well sated. Mistoffelees glanced over at him, dropping the aural shield and letting the sexual heat fade out of the air. "Do you suppose I should bring your pants back for you then?"

Coricopat's lips curled upward at that, his hand resting on Mistoffelees' hip, "Considering that at some point today I intend to actually see people I would appreciate that.'

"Well," Mistoffelees teased. "Maybe it just means you can't stand up from your desk."

The Steward shook his head, but his smile didn't fade, "I don't see that as being practical."

"Well maybe it's not about being practical," Mistoffelees pointed out, pushing himself up on his elbows.

"So I'm to stay behind my desk for the rest of the day?"

"You might have to use a sight shield to return to your chambers," Mistoffelees told him seriously.

"Seems an awful lot of effort."

"Yes," Mistoffelees agreed.

"Wouldn't it be simpler just to call in my pants?" the Prince asked, arching an eyebrow.

"But what have you done to earn that?" Mistoffelees asked, still looking completely serious.

Coricopat paused at that, but smiled faintly as he brushed aside any uncertainty at that question, shaking his head, "What would I have to do to earn it?"

Sensing the unease slightly Mistoffelees leaned forward, twining his arms around Coricopat's neck and pressing their mouths together, keeping the kiss slow and deep, urging Coricopat's mouth open with his. The Steward hesitated, but titled his head into the kiss, his lips parting slightly to permit Mistoffelees entrance as he fingers curled at the back of the other's neck.

Pulling back, Mistoffelees rested their foreheads together for a moment, trying not to think too hard about what he was doing and how easy it was starting to feel to just tumble into bed with Coricopat and stay there. Something like affection was starting to appear behind all his gestures and he tried to pretend it wasn't. "Well, I suppose that will do," he said lightly instead, calling the clothes he'd vanished back in, handing Coricopat his pants.

Coricopat drew a steady breath, taking his pants and pulling them on.  He watched the other man for a moment, considering some of the things Jemima had said earlier, but he shook his head slightly and leaned down to kiss Mistoffelees again briefly.

Tilting his head back easily into the kiss, Mistoffelees blinked at him. "Is something bothering you?"

"What?" Coricopat tilted his head to one side, "No, not that I can think of."

"Alright," he said, still sitting in the middle of Coricopat's desk. He crossed his legs, realized he was still naked and slid off to pull his pants back on.

"Is there anything in particular you're doing today?" the Gray-Jeweled Prince asked as he located his shirt, sliding it on and starting to button it up.

"No," Mistoffelees shook his head.

Coricopat nodded once, calling things from his desk back systematically as he put them back in place, "Would you like to stay here for a while?  I can't say I'll be the best of company with the correspondence I need to finish, but I'd welcome your company regardless."

Mistoffelees watched him. "I'd offer to help you organize your desk if you call in everything but somehow I don't see you sharing."

Rolling his shoulder, the Steward shook his head as he called in what remained, "It's not as though my desktop had the most organization to begin with.  Beyond making certain writing implements are nearer my left hand than right."

Mistoffelees paused and grinned. "Right," he said. "I had noticed the inclination you have to being left handed."

Lips curling upward again, Coricopat chuckled, "As adept as I can be with my right, the left hand has always been my stronger one.  It's a pain for writing, but is manageable."

"Macavity doesn't really care does he?" Mistoffelees asked. "He seems strong with both hands."

Coricopat blinked at him for a moment, as his brain sorted out what was actually meant with that sentence, "Oh, no.  Mac learned, quite a long time ago, how to use both hands equally well.  The fact that he's ambidextrous certainly serves him well."

"I meant with weapons," Mistoffelees said, blinking at him. "Having sparred with him. Not because I pay attention to his hands the same way I do yours. Anyway," he added, shuffling things on the desk.

"I realized that," Coricopat replied mutedly, shaking his head as he straightened a few papers, setting them to one side.  "My mind's still re-routing itself away from the other implications and the way you pay attention to my hands is all."

"I pay a lot of attention to your hands," Mistoffelees said, stopping where he was setting up several pens to look at Coricopat. "You don't think the desk was the only thing I fantasized about, do you?"

The Steward glanced at him, "No, I didn't think that.  Dare I ask what else?"

"Do you really wanna know?" Mistoffelees asked, arching a brow, leaning forward slightly.

"Do you want to tell me?"  He answered.

For a moment Mistoffelees paused. "Well, it's not like it's a coherent list," he said, not trying to invade but trying to think of how to even say anything.

Coricopat nodded very slightly after a moment, murmuring as he looked back at the desk and straightened a letter opener, "Understandable."

Mistoffelees looked at him for a long moment, hands fluttering up before settling down. "It's not," he started. "Sometimes I just think about you or the fact you're across the room. I've told you more things than I've told anyone in... in a century. You're the first person to even touch my Jewel in that time and maybe that's a damned strange mark of intimacy but it--"

The Prince watched him quietly for a long moment, reaching over and tracing a hand down Mistoffelees' cheek, "It's not so strange as you seem to think it is.  As a mark of intimacy I mean.  I just wish I had more to offer you in return for it."

"Like what?" Mistoffelees asked, stepping forward and wrapping his hand around where Coricopat's Grey was around his neck and holding onto it.

The door to the office shuddered under a sudden attempt to open it and Mistoffelees' head whipped around, recognizing Macavity's physic sent before dropping the lock and throwing a black shield up in front of the pair of them just in case. Coricopat startled, his gaze darting to the door as he took a step back, running mentally through a number of things that might cause such anger in the Red-Jeweled Warlord Prince.

Macavity breezed in. "Those bastards just aren't after Queens," he said. "They're after entire courts."

The Steward tensed at that, "Courts?  What happened?"

"Some bastard attacked us in the street," he growled. "Said they were looking for anyone from Cassandra's, Electra's or Grid's court."

"May the Darkness be Merciful," Coricopat murmured.  "You're both...?"

"Fine," he replied shortly and a feral grin graced his face as Mistoffelees dropped the Black shield in front of him and Coricopat, though he created a skin tight one around himself anyway. "Can't say the same for him."

Coricopat nodded once, glancing briefly from Mistoffelees to Macavity, "Good.  You said Cassandra and Electra's courts are being targeted as well?"

"Yes," he crooned.

"Is there anything else?" Coricopat kept his tone calm and even as he watched Macavity.

"No," he said, tilting his head.

"Then I should get the letters off to their Stewards," he spoke quietly.

"Yes," Macavity nodded and seemed to consider before turning and breezing back out. Coricopat watched him go before sinking into his desk chair, gaze still fixed on the doorway.

"Are you alright?" Mistoffelees asked, having been focused on not rising to match Macavity's temper. A Warlord Prince riding the killing edge made him want to respond in kind and his hands were shaking slightly with the effort to remain calm.

"I haven't seen him riding that edge in a long time," he admitted quietly. "And that's not even mentioning the information he just brought.  So, no I'm not alright."

"Do you think he'll tell Griddlebone or should we try?" Mistoffelees asked, glancing down at him.

"I, I honestly don't know.  It might be best if we try."

"He probably won't get to her for a while," Mistoffelees said, looking at the door.

The Steward drew an unsteady breath before nodding and rising, "We...we should go do that then."

Mistoffelees held a hand out to him, unsure whether he wanted the reassurance of touch or if he just wanted to spend as much time with the other as he could before everything burned to the ground. Taking the other's hand, Coricopat offered him a weak smile before leading them out of the office to locate Griddlebone.

Mistoffelees trailed after him, focusing more on the simple touch than what Macavity had said, or about the thoughts he had torn out of his own attacker's mind.

Pushing open the door to the library, Coricopat hesitated when he found Griddlebone and Sonya both present.  He stepped inside quietly. Mistoffelees on his heels, he closed the door behind them, finally dropping Coricopat's hand.

"What's the matter?" Sonya asked, rising.

Griddlebone's gaze darted between Coricopat and Mistoffelees, "What's happened?"

The Steward hesitated for a brief moment, "Macavity and Teazer were attacked.  They're both alive," he quickly added.  "It was the same group as before.  They-they're targeting courts.  Not just Queens."

"Which courts?" Sonya asked quickly.

"This one, as well as Cassandra's and Electra's," he murmured.

Griddlebone paled, "But...why these three?"

"Because you're the most powerful," Mistoffelees said. "Because you're kind and protect the land, and there are always those that would rather abuse it."

"Why now?" her gaze moved to Mistoffelees.

"I don't," Mistoffelees started and paused. "Witch is gone," he said finally. "Sadi is still around but she is gone from Ebon Askai. Besides, there's been enough time for another generation to grow up since the purge. Time to forget lessons learned."

Griddlebone ran a shaky hand over her eyes, "What are we supposed to do?"

"It's just one group of over arrogant men," Mistoffelees replied.

"But we don't know how many there are, or how powerful.  They seem to think they can take down three of the darkest Courts in the land," the Queen spoke mutedly.

"Then they must think they have some sort of powerful weapon," Sonya replied and as soon as he said it his eyes strayed to Mistoffelees, who blinked back at him before the Warlord Prince narrowed his eyes.

Coricopat spoke, his gaze focusing briefly on Sonya, "They've been quite blatant in their attacks thus far--unsuccessful both times, but blatant.  I'll be writing to the other Courts today, and we'll just have to stay on our guard until we can find the root of this faction."

"You'll send out the messages soon?" Sonya asked, still watching Mistoffelees.

"If you're going to accuse me of something, you should probably just do it," the Warlord Prince snapped, well aware of the thoughts forming in the other's head.

"You have to admit the timing is suspicious at best," Sonya returned.

Coricopat had opened his mouth to answer Sonya, but snapped his jaws shut at that, not responding as he wished to.  Griddlebone glanced at her Consort, "Sonya..."

"What?" he asked, glancing back at her as Mistoffelees could feel himself start to sink down into the depth of his jewels. "I'm not saying he is part of this, only that he appeared and then we start being attacked."

"It wasn't when he showed up," she murmured.  "It was later than that."  Coricopat reached over and set a gentle hand on Mistoffelees' shoulder.

Sonya didn't say how little time had passed but shrugged, letting it drop. Griddlebone drew a calming breath, "Was there anything else?"

Mistoffelees shook his head, glancing at Coricopat as Sonya looked back to the book he had been perusing before. Coricopat also shook his head, "No, that-that was everything.  I'll go get those letter written now." 

His Queen nodded slightly, "Alright.  Good day you two."

Mistoffelees slammed his way out of the library, barely waiting to see if Coricopat was fooling him or not. The Steward turned, hurrying after the Warlord Prince, "Mistoffelees, wait, please."

"I don't mind you following, but I will not wait," he snarled in reply.

Drawing a steadying breath at that, he sped up to catch up to the other man. Though he didn't stop, Mistoffelees slowed his steps slightly. "He spoke hastily," the Steward murmured.

"Did he?" Mistoffelees snarled.

Coricopat flinched very slightly in the face of the other's anger, "He did.  He has no real basis for the implications he just offered."

Stopping, Mistoffelees pivoted around to look at him. "And if he wasn't wrong?" he asked, voice low and anger making him dangerous. "What would you do then?"

The Steward froze at that question, eyes locked with Mistoffelees', "Was he right?"

"That's not what I'm asking," Mistoffelees said, advancing a step. "What would _you_ do?"

Resisting the urge to retreat in equal measure to Mistoffelees' advance, Coricopat hesitated, "I..."  He drew a deep breath and glanced away before answering, "I would lay down my life in defense of my Queen."

Tilting his head up Mistoffelees watched him a moment, stomach twisting painfully before he reached up, pulling Coricopat's head down and kissing him with enough biting force to make the other bleed. The other stiffened at the abrupt contact and the pain from the kiss, tasting blood on his lips as he tried to pull back.

Mistoffelees pulled back, pausing long enough to lick the small amount of blood off Coricopat's lower lip before turning away again. Coricopat pressed a hand against his lower lip briefly, wincing as he came to a decision and started after the other again.

This time Mistoffelees didn't slow until he came to the garden. Emerging about three steps behind him, the Prince came to a stop just considering the other man. Mistoffelees reached a hand out, picking a rose from one of the bushes, spreading his hand over the petals and coating it entirely in ice. "Was there anything else?"

Coricopat paled at the state of the rose before he finally shook his head, "Not...not unless you needed or wanted something."

"Then why did you follow me?" Mistoffelees asked, handing him the frozen flower.

His fingers closed carefully around the stem, eyes focused on the other man, "To see if there was anything I could do for you."

Sucking down a deep breath, Mistoffelees looked down. "I should have expected that, but so soon after Macavity's rage..."

"Are..." he wet his lips before trying again, "Is there anything you need done?"

"What could you possibly offer?" Mistoffelees asked, voice low but truly curious.

Coricopat paused at that, dropping his gaze to the flower, "I...I don't know."

"I suppose the sentiment means something," Mistoffelees managed.

The Steward hesitated, "Do you want me to stay?"

"I want to sleep for a week and hope all my troubles are gone when I wake up, but I know the nightmares would wake me up long before then."

"Will you let me settle you in, then?"

"I wasn't--" Mistoffelees looked at him. "I'm going to get tea from the kitchen," he said instead. "And then, join you in your office?"

Coricopat paused and then nodded, "Alright.  I'll...I'll see you soon then?"

Mistoffelees nodded, taking off on the long path around the garden, stopping by the kitchen long enough to coax Jenny out of a cup of tea. Reaching Coricopat's office he curled up in the plush chair in the corner near the door, falling asleep before the tea was finished.

Coricopat glanced up when he came in, but turned his attention back to the letters he was composing.  He finished them and sealed them to be sent out as soon as possible and turned his attention to further work.

Knees curled up to his chest, Mistoffelees slept through the afternoon, cheek pressed against his sleeve, wrinkles imprinting in his cheeks. Just a while before dinner, Mistoffelees startled awake, rubbing his eyes and glancing over at the cold cup of tea.

Glancing up, Coricopat looked toward his clock and then back to the other, "Did you sleep well?"

"I think so," Mistoffelees said, voice sleep rough.

"It's nearly time for dinner."

"Oh," he said, eyes widening in surprise.

Coricopat rose, smoothing down his shirt and stretching his back, "We really ought to go..."

"To dinner?" Mistoffelees asked, still trying to brush sleep out of his eyes.

He nodded, "Yes.  Neither of us can afford to miss another meal for starters."

Mistoffelees flushed, looking down at his stomach, realizing how little he'd eaten. "Did you go for lunch?" he asked after a moment.

"I got caught up in work," _and I didn't want you to wake up alone._

Mistoffelees considered him, not quite understanding what remained unsaid but guessing. "You are," he started and stopped. "A strange thing I never expected," Mistoffelees said.

"Is that a good thing or a bad one?"

"Good," Mistoffelees said, though he frowned slightly.

Coricopat watched him warily, but nodded, "…Alright.  You're not what I expected either, if I'm being honest."

"I hope no one really expected someone like me," Mistoffelees replied quietly.

"Well, no.  No one did, but I meant on a more personal level."

"On a personal level I still hope no one in the world had the expectation of me," Mistoffelees replied.

Coricopat offered him a faint smile, "I have to admit I'm...somewhat glad you weren't what I was expecting."

Mistoffelees blinked. "I'm not going to dare ask what you were expecting then," he decided.

"I'm not even sure I entirely know.  But it wasn't you," The Steward shook his head.  "We should be on our way to supper." Nodding, Mistoffelees let him lead the way out.

-0-

After dinner, Martin dragged Mistoffelees to the side, staring with narrow eyes at Coricopat. Shoving Mistoffelees into a room he slammed the door behind them. "What in hellsfire do you think you're doing?"

"I don't," Mistoffelees started, back going up and snarling. "I don't know what I'm doing, why don't you bother to tell me what the hell is going on?"

"You know all you need to know for the job," Martin replied.

"The job?" Mistoffelees snarled, throwing his hands out. "What if I don't want to do the damned job?"

Moving so quickly Mistoffelees didn't have time to brace for it, Martin slammed him against the wall, one hand around his throat and other pinning the wrist with his ring against the wall. "Have you gone soft?" he asked. "What is it? Forgetting what horrible bitches Queens are or thinking he might actually love you? Which idiocy have you fallen for?"

Mistoffelees snarled, shoving at his chest with his free hand. "I could take you on your best day and you know it."

"Except for everything that binds us together," Martin crooned. "So, you really think he loves you? Is that what this is? You think he possibly could?"

"Do you think you are the only one?" Mistoffelees replied.

"Yes," Martin nodded. "Because he doesn't know you. He's seen you go cold but he does not understand you in your darkest places."

"Like you do?" Mistoffelees asked, hand curling in Martin's shirt, holding him there now instead of pushing him away. "You are of the same caste and rank as him, so why do you know what he does not?"

Martin laughed, the sound cold. "Because you could never show those places to someone you loved but I've always seen them, they are a part of both of us now."

Sucking in a breath, Mistoffelees let it out. "Let me go."

"And the job?" Martin pressed, stepping back.

"Does it matter?" Mistoffelees asked, stepping away from the wall and rolling his shoulders. "Would it really matter to either of us to walk away and pretend this court had never existed? Your reputation wouldn't be harmed in Terreille and we could just pretend this court had never existed."

"No," Martin said and Mistoffelees stared at him.

"Why not?"

"Because leaving here is of no interest to me, but if you refuse to do what we are meant to, than I shall finish it," Martin said.

"You really should just leave," Mistoffelees said.

"Will you try and stop me?" Martin asked, arching a careful brow at him, turning his head to watch Mistoffelees head for the door.

"I don't know," Mistoffelees admitted, hand on the door knob. "Would you like to test me?"

"You wouldn't dare," Martin replied, firm in that conviction. Mistoffelees just looked at him over his shoulder before slamming the door behind him.


	10. Do Everyone Good

The next morning, Teazer made her way down to the training field in search of Macavity.  They needed to talk about the day before.  She paused, gaze darting around for the Warlord Prince.  Crossing the field, she stopped a short distance from where he was, leaning back on her heels a bit.

"Can I help you?" he asked, glancing over before holding a blade out to her. "Though, since you're here, you should practice."

She accepted the blade, looking from it to him, "We need to talk."

"Yeah?" he rumbled.

"About yesterday," she clarified, stepping into a ready stance.

"What about it?" he asked, arching a brow.

"I know why you did it, and you can't be held responsible for it, but I didn't much appreciate being manhandled."

"Then you're going to have one hell of a problem being with a Warlord Prince," Macavity replied, forcing his tone to be mild. "And you can still walk away. But that comes with it. We protect, lady, and then we serve. And right then all that mattered was protecting you, and even my Queen."

"I said I understood it, Mac," she responded.  "And if it's something I have to deal with, I'll find a way to deal with it.  Yesterday it did little more than increase my alarm in the moment, though."

"It was an alarming moment," Macavity agreed softly.

Teazer hesitated, "What are the chances of it ending up repeated?"

"I don't know," he said, "Depends on how often we're attacked like that. Hopefully never."

"A-alright."  She nodded, "Why are they attacking now?"

He hesitated and shrugged. "I don't rightly know. Some theories about time passing and fear have come up but I couldn't figure it out from that bastard."

Teazer drew a steadying breath before nodding again, "I...I guess the reason behind it isn't the most important thing."

"Destroying them is," Macavity said, trying to play it light and not managing it. His tone and expression were too serious.

The young woman considered him for a moment, but inclined her head slightly, "It is. It means we need to know more than we do."

"Potentially," Macavity agreed.

"But the only way to do that is to encounter more of them.  Which means waiting for another attack," she growled.  "It's too much damn waiting involved."

"Or we can gather the Queens in question and start preparing defenses," Macavity pointed out. "There are already messages being sent out and we'll have a council I'm sure, to work this out."

"And if that's not enough?"

"Then we burn them to the ground the instant they give us the opening," he said, stepping back from the training exercise as he could feel his anger rise at the idea.

Teazer took a half step back, lowering her weapon and watching him as she nodded, "Make sure the bastards pay for even considering this."

"Yeah," he agreed, mouth twisting up into a harsh smile. "That's the idea."

"Good," her lips curled upward in a mirthless smile, her hand tightening ever so slightly on the training weapon she held.

Eyes straying to her weapon, he stepped forward, holding his hand out for it. "Call it enough for today?" he offered.

She considered him for a moment before handing over the weapon with a nod, "For today."

"For today," he agreed.

o-o-o-o

Pulling the top sheet of the bed up, Coricopat lay back, propping himself up on one elbow to consider Mistoffelees.  He reached over and brushed the other man's hair back almost absently. Eyes closed, Mistoffelees hummed, stretching his hands over his head like a lazy cat on its back.

The Gray-Jeweled Prince leaned over and kissed the smaller man's temple, settling back again, "You're absolutely amazing."

Cracking one eye open, Mistoffelees rolled over to his side, pulling the sheet with him. For a moment he considered the other, both gold eyes half open now. "What makes you say that?"

"The fact that you're here.  The fact that you can make me feel again.  The fact that you've come so far," he shook his head.  "You've not given me the easiest question to answer."

"I tend not to like easily answered questions," Mistoffelees replied, still watching him. "Feel again?" he inquired softly.

"That is what I said," Coricopat leaned his head against his hand.  "I've done rather a good job of running from my emotions for the last several years."

For a moment Mistoffelees looked like he couldn't figure out how he could stop anyone from running from emotions. "Well, you're welcome?" he offered, trying to lighten whatever mood was brewing before stretching out again.

Sliding down to actually lay on his side, his head cushioned on his bent arm, Coricopat smiled faintly, "Thank you, then."  He settled back, considering briefly whether to say anything further or not.

Once he settled again, Mistoffelees curled loosely against Coricopat's chest, humming again.

Coricopat's hand moved up to gently comb through Mistoffelees' hair and he arched his neck enough to kiss the Warlord Prince's brow, his words barely audible, "Mother Night, Mistoffelees, I love you."

Suddenly Mistoffelees froze, contentment gone though he was still curled in the same position, as if waiting for Coricopat to brush past the comment or continue. The Prince felt the change and closed his eyes for a brief moment, drawing back very slightly.  He'd known better than to say that out loud.

"What?" Mistoffelees rasped when there was silence for too long.

Drawing a steadying breath, Coricopat leaned back enough to be able to look at Mistoffelees as he answered, "I said I love you."

For a long moment Mistoffelees just stared at him, eyes wide. Just as suddenly he sat up, sliding out of the bed. Coricopat sat up quickly, feeling some emotion within him solidify and freeze.  Reaching for the other automatically, he stopped just short of actually touching the Warlord Prince.

"Are you--?" Mistoffelees started and shook his head, turning abruptly and looking for where he'd dropped his clothes earlier.

"Am I what?"  Coricopat looked uncertain as to what question he was supposed to answer, though he didn't move any further.

"Are you out of your mind?" Mistoffelees repeated and paused with his pants in his hands, as if hating to ask the question. "That is," he started again and shook his head.

He flinched very slightly at that, "I don't believe I am.  Not for loving you anyway.  Perhaps for admitting it to you."

That stopped Mistoffelees again. "For admitting it?" he repeated.

"Better to love in silence than lose the person you love," Coricopat replied.

"And you assumed you would lose me?" Mistoffelees asked and realized considering his reaction that was a stupid question. Shaking his head at himself he yanked his pants on, hunting around for the rest of his clothing.

"Won't I?" came the quiet question as he watched the other dressing to leave.

"It's hardly a pre-ordained outcome," Mistoffelees replied.

"But it is still a potential outcome."

"So you would have remained silent for what might have happened?" Mistoffelees snapped, still full of restless energy.

"Considering how well it appears to be going for me speaking up, yes," Coricopat answered almost sharply, his body tense and his emotions grating.

Mistoffelees' head whipped around to look at him and he finally stopped. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, voice sounding hollow.

Coricopat dropped his gaze, shaking his head, "Be honest with me, but don't run from me."

"What if I can't be honest?" he asked, voice cracking.

The Steward drew a deep breath before looking up again and meeting Mistoffelees' eyes, "Then that's your decision.  I'm not asking to be loved in return, I'm just asking that you don't flee from me."

"What if I have to?" Mistoffelees asked, voice low. "For your sake as much as mine?"

“Then I would ask you to give me _a_ reason.  Even if it isn't the actual one."

"Because I'm dangerous," Mistoffelees snapped back. "Because I never have, because I have obligations to others, because I wouldn't know what to do with someone who loved me."

"I know you're dangerous," Coricopat responded, keeping his tone even, "it hasn't stopped me.  If your other obligations require you to leave, then do so.  I have no idea what more to tell you.  If you feel you must go, or you're too frightened by the idea of staying and being loved, then go. I can't stop you, no matter how much I might wish to."

"Why would you want to?" Mistoffelees asked, fear twisting in his stomach.

"You really have no idea how love works, do you?  I would want to because letting you leave would be akin to losing a part of myself.  I would want to because I want to prove to you that you can stop leaving--you can make a home."

Mistoffelees' mouth opened and he stared at the other a long moment. "You're right," he said slowly. "I have no idea how love works."

Coricopat managed not to flinch, "I...I didn't mean that how it came out."

"It doesn't make it less true."

"I just..." He drew a deep breath, "If, for your own sake, you have to leave.  Then...then I won't stop you."

Biting back a snarl, Mistoffelees slammed his hand on the edge of the bed frame, leaning forward. "Why not fight?" he demanded.

Coricopat growled, his eyes narrowing, "And how would you have me fight? Is there anything I could do that would convince you? I won't keep you here if it's not what you want."

"Why not?" Mistoffelees practically wailed, trying to absorb what Coricopat was saying with Martin's actions and his own feelings.

"Because no matter what the cost to me, I would not hold someone against their will.  I care too much for you to deny you the right to choose your own way," the Steward felt as though he were going in circles, but if that was what it took to convey the thought to Mistoffelees then he would be damned before he stopped.

Mouth opening and closing again, Mistoffelees jerked back. "What if I wanted to stay and was too afraid to?"

Coricopat leaned forward slightly, "What are you so afraid of?"

Mistoffelees gave him a long look. "What do you think might scare me so?" he asked.

"The idea of being valued not for your power but for who you are.  The idea of having a permanent place to call 'home'.  The possibility of caring about people enough to accept either of those.  Am I close at all?"

The corner of Mistoffelees' mouth twisted. "And if I find a home and go so mad I destroy it?" he asked softly.

"You've made it this far, do you really think you would slip in that direction without people noticing?" Coricopat responded quietly.

"Yes," Mistoffelees replied, voice going even lower.

The Steward drew a steadying breath at that, "And you don't believe someone could pull you back from that brink?  Could guide you out if need be?"

"Who would possibly be able to achieve that?" Mistoffelees asked, drawing back.

"You tell me.  It's been done in this court before, though not with someone of your Jewel level."

"What?" Mistoffelees frowned in confusion before turning to pull his shirt on, buttoning it swiftly.

"Helping out of the Twisted Kingdom.  It's happened here."  His gaze strayed to Mistoffelees' back for the brief moment it was visible and he suppressed a growl at the sight of the scars.

"And if someone goes truly mad?" Mistoffelees demanded, glancing at him over his shoulder. "Hells fire, do you think it's that easy?"

"Damn it, no I don't.  But I have no idea what to offer you.  If you're so damned scared of doing that that you won't even take a chance, then what the hell do you expect me to do or say?" Coricopat snapped in response, grey eyes narrowed.

Mistoffelees stopped, vest in hand. Martin's sneering words about being foolish enough to believe someone could love him echoed around in his head and he took another deep breath, trying to fight back the panic that had been building. "And what would you do if you ever really understood me?" Mistoffelees asked.

"Would you intentionally cause harm to my Queen?" Coricopat replied before answering.

"What?" Mistoffelees froze again, eyes wide on his face.

"Nothing else I can think of would change my response to you.  Hellsfire, it wouldn't even change the fact that I love you, but my loyalty is to her first."

"Nothing else in the world?" Mistoffelees asked, voice cracking again.

"I can hardly anticipate every outcome, but nothing else that I can imagine," Coricopat answered honestly.

Mistoffelees stared at him again for a long moment. The Prince met his gaze steadily, considering him for a long moment, "Mistoffelees, I love you.  That doesn't come with conditions.  That is irrevocable.  There is nothing you could do that would change that.  There are things that would make it as painful as Hell, but nothing you can do will change the fact that I am in love with you."

Golden eyes widening again Mistoffelees opened and closed his mouth, trying to think of any possible thing to say. "And that scares me," he said, before turning and instead of bothering to put any of the rest of his clothing on he made his way quickly to the door.

Mistoffelees shoved his way into Martin's rooms. The other was standing despite the late hour, papers spread over his desk and pacing to help himself think. Catching his hands on Martin's shirt, Mistoffelees pulled him into an open mouthed kiss full of teeth. He dragged the taller to the bed, pulling Martin over him. The Grey Jeweled Prince followed him easily, snarls rising between them as Martin ranked his fingernails down the scars on Mistoffelees' back, causing him to arch against his chest with a wail.

Biting Martin's shoulder, Mistoffelees dug his own fingers into the other's back, no room for stillness or kindness between them. It had been a very long time since he had ended up Martin's bed.

"We belong together, you and I," Martin said afterward, hand smoothing along the strip scar from the whip, as Mistoffelees sat staring at the wall, sheet pooled around his waist. "There is no one that would love creatures such as you and I."

"We certainly don't love each other," Mistoffelees said, glancing over his shoulder.

"No," Martin agreed. "But we have each other."

o-o-o-o

Nearly as soon as Mistoffelees had left his room, Coricopat rose from the bed and pulled on dark trousers and a light-weight white shirt. Yanking his shoes on he grabbed a jacket and exited his room, intending to stay away from it for the day.  He soon found himself standing outside of Jemima's bedroom door and he hesitated for a brief moment before knocking, uncertain how she would take to being roused, but he needed desperately to talk to her--even to hear her call him a stupid snarly male.  It would be mild in comparison to the titles he was awarding himself.

For a while there was a shocked silence from the other side of the door before there was something that sounded like a snarl and some knocking about before Jemima yanked the door open. She'd thrown on a bathrobe that was on this side of fuzzy and her red curly hair stuck out in strange curls and kinks. "The palace had better be on fire," she snarled.

Coricopat flinched, knowing he'd better just brave it now that he'd actually woken her.  Running a hand through his tangled, black hair, he met her eyes, "I think I may have just scared Mistoffelees off."

"Did you do it with fire?" she asked after a pause, though she stepped back from the door, allowing him to enter if he liked. Compulsively, she pulled the waist of her robe tighter as she watched him.

He stepped inside, watching her and leaving space between them, "No.  I did it with unconditional love."

"All love is conditional," she replied automatically, flinching back slightly and shaking her head. "Okay, no. Explain to me," she continued, shutting the door behind them.

"I made the mistake of admitting I loved him."  He sighed, carding a hand through his hair, "he tried to run then, we...we talked, and I told him that I couldn't think of anything I could find out that would change the fact that I loved him.  Yes, I can think of things that would make that love hurt like hell, but nothing that would stop it.  And I don't think I've ever seen someone bolt that fast."

"He stopped to talk about it?" she asked in some surprise.

"He was taking the time to get his clothes on," the Steward admitted.  "Though, yes, there was some pausing to talk about, well, the idea of a home.  How frightened he is by that."

"Can you blame him?" Jemima asked, tilting her head.

He paused for a long moment before shaking his head, "No, honestly I can't.  He's so terrified of what he might do, though, that he won't give himself the chance to experience something good in his life."

"So you finally consider yourself something good?" Jemima asked. "That's progress at least."

"I consider a home something good, and if I'm part of that home then so be it," Coricopat corrected quietly.

"But it is still more positive toward you than you have been," Jemima said.

He managed a faint smile at that, "Alright, that's probably true.  What am I supposed to do, Jemima?  He's in full-on retreat."

"Well, continuing the battle metaphor, I would say chase him or cut him off at the pass," she shrugged.

"Which are both far easier said than done."

"So's everything," she shrugged. "If you wanted a sage you shouldn't have woken me up."

He shook his head at that, considering returning to bed and deciding that his couch in his office would do just fine, "Should let you get back to sleep then, should I?"

"Now I'm up it probably won't matter," she shrugged.

"It occurs to me that I've only been coming to you when I'm having difficulties, how have you been doing of late, Jemima?" Coricopat asked, half to change the subject and the track his mind was taking around and around the issue of Mistoffelees.

She considered him for a long moment. "That was a clumsier subject change than usual."

Coricopat sighed, "Will you allow me it anyway?"

"I suppose this once," she decided. "Though there hasn't been much going on in this court you don't already know of."

"I didn't ask about what was going on in the court though," he murmured.  "I asked how you were doing."

"At the moment?" she replied. "My life is the court."

Coricopat nodded ever so slightly, "How is Teazer after that incident in Dehmlan?"

"Good, though confused I think," she shrugged. "I think that despite everything she was not prepared for Macavity on his bad days."'

"Do you think it will affect them for the long term?" Coricopat asked softly.

"Hopefully not," she replied. "Trained to understand males or not Macavity on a bad day shocked me, and he was being so careful around her."

"Good. I don't know how he'd take it if it did.  Protocol or not."

"I have some idea," Jemima replied. "I don't think it would send him sliding anywhere back toward madness but I think it could come close."

He ran a hand over his face, "Mother Night, nothing is ever simple in this court is it?"

"If you wanted simple, the rural district courts might have suited," Jemima said and then wrinkled her nose. "Though those pigs are never simple."

Coricopat chuckled, "Can you see me in a rural district court, honestly?"

"Not effectively no," she shook her head again, one hand moving up to try and tame some of her curls down.

"I think I might head down to my study and see about getting some of my work done before dawn," Coricopat murmured, absently tracing a hand over the chain of the pendant he wore around his neck.

"Which means avoiding your issues in the interest of not returning to your bed?"

"Which means if I'm even going to consider sleeping it will be on the couch downstairs rather than in that bed again tonight,” Coricopat replied, shortly.  

She sighed. "Good luck, Coricopat."

Offering her a weak smile he inclined his head, "And to you, Jemima."  Bowing slightly, he slipped out of the room and retreated downstairs to his study.

Sighing, Jemima shook her head. She considered her hair in the mirror for a moment, deciding that it wasn't quite worth bothering with and instead pulled on a pair of soft trousers and a dark shirt before heading down to the kitchens.

o-o-o

Tumblebrutus was in the kitchens--he'd taken to coming down extremely early and retreating shortly before Jenny arrived, usually reappearing about fifteen minutes later to offer her a hand if she wanted it.  The Purple Dusk Warlord felt far more relaxed in the kitchen than anywhere else in the palace, and was currently seated at the table with a sketchbook and a cup of hot chocolate.

Jemima stopped in the doorway, suddenly wishing she had taken the time to deal with her hair. "That's an odd activity for the kitchen."

He started at her voice and instinctively vanished the sketchbook, starting to rise, "Lady.  Can, can I get you something?  Anything to drink perhaps?"

"Are you the new kitchen help we just haven't been told about?" she asked, arching her eyebrows up. "I can easily get my own tea, thank you though."

"What?  No, I just...it's quieter down here--comfortable and homey," he admitted softly as he sat back down.

She considered him as she put the pot for tea on. "You might have a strange idea of comfort," she said.

"Is there somewhere else in the palace you'd identify as that?"

She shrugged. "Well, not the kitchen. Too many knives and dead animals."

"It's quiet, and private--at this hour--and people don't expect to find you here," he countered softly.

"There's still a lot of sharp and dead things," she repeated. "There's a parlor to the north that's all but abandoned. The furnishings are as such a bit outdated but that's quite."

"But it's not a kitchen," Tumblebrutus remarked, glancing at her as though that was the relevant quality of the room they were currently in that made it comfortable.

Arching a brow she considered him. "No," she said slowly. "It isn't. But it is rather more quiet, comfortable, and probably homey. Besides, that's a place you could always retreat, not just when no one else is awake."

"I-I'll consider it.  There's just..." he shook his head, "It's hard to explain.  There’s just something about a kitchen that feels, I don't know, safer."

"See, I'm still a little hung up on all the potential weapons myself," she said, leaning against the counter and crossing her legs at the ankles.

"As I said, safer."  He turned his chair so he could more easily look at her, "It's...it's more defensible."

That earned another blink. "Alright," she said, considering his Jewel rank and shrugging it off. "And how do you defend all the dead creatures hanging about the place?"

"Defend the dead creatures?"  He looked briefly confused, "Provisions."

She hummed. "Well, if you think it's homey, I suppose I can't really complain."

"What about you?  What do you consider homey?" He asked after a moment, drawing one of his knees up to his chest, resting his heel on the edge of the chair.

She considered his posture and shrugged. "Small spaces," she replied. "Where I can see the door usually."

Tumble nodded slightly, that he could certainly understand.  Resting his chin on his knee, he considered her for a long moment, "Have you been at this court long?"

"Yes," she said. "Well, yes and then longer. I knew Griddlebone when we were both training before the court formed."

"So you would have been here at the forming of it then," he dropped his gaze to the stone floor, focusing on one of the large square slabs.

"Yes," she said. "Is there a reason you ask it?"

"Curiosity.  It...it's a close-knit court."

"It can be," she agreed. "I mean, when we're not yelling at each other or panicking or any number of things."

"But, even then, you're...you're more of a family than I might have expected," he bit his lower lip and shook his brown hair away from his face.  "I mean, yes, you yell, and you panic, but you don't doubt each other's loyalty.  Not that I've seen at least."

Watching him for a long moment she rolled her shoulders. "Not much point. And you apparently haven't heard some of our arguments over Mistoffelees."

His brown eyes darted up to scan her face at that, "Over Mistoffelees?"

"Well, his loyalty rather," she shrugged.

"Do you consider him part of the court?" Tumble asked, honestly curious as to the answer.

"I would certainly like to," she replied. "I'm worried he wouldn't agree."

"It-it's hard to call oneself part of a court when life can ch-change so quickly."

"Is it?" she asked. "We are Blood and we have Protocol. And that often calls for courts."

"Lady Jemima, may I ask how many courts you have seen?  Or been party to?"

She blinked. "Seen? Lots. Been part of? The one I was born in, the one I trained in, and this one. Why?"

"I suppose I'm just curious as to whether Protocol has worked as intended in many of them."  He shook his head, "I find myself surprised when I encounter a court where it does, such as this one."

"You're not here often are you?" she asked. "Many of the courts function and not just because they're too terrified not to. Things are supposed to be different here than they were a hundred years ago."

"Here, in Kaeleer?  No, we're not here often," Tumble replied softly.

"Then something's gone wrong in the other realm to," she replied. "Or you're too used to Martin."

He blinked at her for a long moment and opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again, seeming to draw in on himself a bit, "Perhaps you're right.  He just...he took me in."

"Really?" she asked, surprised. "He doesn't seem the type to gather strays. Mistoffelees, from what I've seen, I would buy, but not him."

"Well, he was hardly altruistic about it.  You'll notice I'm still a servant."

"But a servant has a job and a place," Jemima said.

["I never said I didn't have those things.  I simply said that Martin taking me in wasn't altruistic," Tumble pointed out. "And alright, Mistoffelees, m-may have had something to do with it."

She considered, a tiny smile curling the corner of her mouth. "Well, the last does not surprise me. It makes me glad though."

He blinked slowly a couple of times, "Really?"

"That Mistoffelees had something to do with it? It implies me might be as good of a person as I'm still hoping he is."

Leaning forward slightly, Tumble tilted his head to one side, "Do you doubt that he is?"

"Yes," Jemima returned bluntly, fiddling with the tea she was seeping for a moment. "Often. Sometimes. I wonder if my hope is clouding my judgment or my judgment is clouding what I hope to be there. He's standing on some sort of brink and I think he's going to take everyone around him with him, whichever way he falls, when he does. I'd hoped we could help and now I'm not nearly so sure."

"W-what's happened to make you unsure?" He reached over and picked up his chocolate, grimacing when he found it tepid.

Reaching out, she placed a warming spell on his cup before pulling back. "He's currently in Martin's room, doing his damnest to run away and be frightened."

He murmured his thanks before taking a drink, "Why do you think I'm down here and not in the room next to that particular power struggle? What happened?"

"Apparently a certain fool informed the very skittish, very powerful man in his bed he was in love with him," she huffed. "And then let him walk out of that room."

Sighing and rubbing his eyes, Tumblebrutus shook his head, "I d-doubt Mistoffelees has any idea w-what to do with love anymore, i-if he ever did."

She huffed again, running her free hand through her hair. "When would he have?"

"I don't know.  Never that I can think of."

Sighing, she finally moved to sit across the table from him. "Well, you seem to be the only person here with even the smallest line into what goes on in his head."

"R-right, because anyone has even that," Tumble sighed, turning slightly to keep her in sight.  "Even i-if I did have that, i-it's not as though I could say much ab-bout it."

"Anything would be more than I currently feel like I have," she returned.

"You've probably got it all hashed out.  H-he doesn't have a grasp on love, but then wh-who does, and th-the idea of a loyalty to a court, to a queen?" He shook his head, "It's a frightening proposition."

She growled softly and shook her head. "Why does it scare him? I mean, okay, I sort of know, but, he's a Warlord Prince! He should _need_ it in his blood."

That earned her a sharp look, "Just because he needs it doesn't mean it doesn't scare him.  He..." he paused, eyeing her for a moment, "how much of a confidence is this c-conversation?"

"Considering your employer?" she returned. "Completely. Unless this is something I need to bring to my Queen instantly."

Tumble nodded very slightly, knowing how carefully he would still have to tread, "He's n-never wanted to stay in a court before."

"He's not much acting like he wants to stay here either."

"Well, what do you expect him to do? Magically overcome his fears? D-do you have any concept of how powerful he is?"

"Some," she replied. "Personally and on a gut level? Maybe not. But I know the stories and I understand at least the precedence for what he could do."

"All it would take is him losing control, an any place h-he calls home c-could end up destroyed.  Because of him.  O-or that's what he fears."

Jemima could feel a growl working its way up her throat and pushed it down. "Alright. So he's scared of hurting other people."

"He's scared of hurting other people he m-may have come to care about," Tumble corrected quietly, starting to withdraw again ever so slightly.

"But that implies he does care," she pointed out.

"Y-yes, it does. But what would you have him do?"

"I don't know," she shook her head. "Something. Something that wouldn't scare _me_ no matter how selfish that might be."'

Tumble sighed, turning his gaze to the dregs in his cup, "He's a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince, that can't be a very long list."

"Well, when you say it like that," she huffed and shook her head.

"What would be on that list?" He asked after a moment.

"Not running to Martin the instant Coricopat say something stupid?" she offered.

"That..." he sighed, "Martin, a-as much of a b-bastard as he is, is familiar."

"Which is a scary thought," she shook her head. "What I know of their history or not."

"I'm going to take a guess that your Steward's in retreat now too?"

“Curled up in his office licking his wounds," she sighed, tracing her fingers around the top of her cup.

"Misto retreating, th-though not th-the best response, does likely indicate h-he's feeling s-something at least. And I don't mean just fear. If he was just using your steward, he wouldn't be in retreat...not to th-this level anyway."

"Well, that's at least more reassuring than I have any right to expect," Jemima said and considered.

"It's something anyhow.  If h-he gives himself time, h-he might deal with the possibility of emotions," Tumble shrugged, glancing at the Black Widow.

"How much time would that take?" she asked, considering the webs she'd weaved again last night which had told her nothing new except "Soon."

The Warlord traced the wood grain of the table top as he shook his head, "I, honestly I've g-got no idea."

“Uncharted territory for all, hm?" Jemima asked and shook her head.

"To put it mildly, yes.  Th-there's also the question of if h-he would even give himself that time."

"Do you think he would give it time?" she asked after a moment.

Tumble paused, considering the question before shaking his head, "I r-really don't know.  He might be too afraid to do so."

Sighing again, she ran another hand through her already tangled her. "Well, here's hoping then."

His gaze followed her hand, pausing at her curls and he spoke before he even processed what he was thinking, "Would you like me to comb that for you?"

She paused, fingers still tangled up. "Come again?" she asked in surprise.

His brown eyes widened as he realized what he said, "I-I mean...that... sorry, I suppose it's a habit to o-offer that.  Personal s-servant and all."

"Right," she said, not quite looking like she believed the excuse.

He dropped his gaze to his empty chocolate cup and rose to clean it and put it away, deciding his best option at the moment might be to simply stay quiet.

"It's an odd request," she said, watching him. "Not a concerning or particularly difficult one."

"It's just," he paused, turning to lean against the counter and face her, "I suppose it's just something I-I do.  M-Mistoffelees has hair somewhat like y-yours--thick and curly I mean.  It's...no, now I'm saying e-everything wrong."

"But I'm still curious to hear it," she returned softly.

He ran a nervous hand through his hair, tangling his fingers in it and pulling very slightly at the back of his head, "It's...soothing, f-for both people in some ways.  It's just...I-I don't know how to explain it.  Helping to coax th-the curls to untangle gently, to get them to lay how they're supposed to--or as close as curls ever get to doing so--it's something that, that balances."

Jemima paused. "My grandmother used to comb my hair when she would tell me stories. I'm still just trying to imagine someone like Mistoffelees letting anyone else comb his hair. But I certainly understand your impulse, I think."

"S-something like that.  It...I mean it's just something I've always seen as, well r-relaxing.  easier to talk t-too, I guess.  D-don't have to actually m-meet someone's eyes then."

That got a gracefully arched eyebrow. "Don't you like other people's eyes?"

The Purple Dusk Warlord startled at that, "Th-that wasn't w-what I meant. I j-just, I m-mean you have very nice e-eyes, but.  Oh Hellsfire. I-I get more and more flustered a-actually talking to someone face on."

A tiny smile appeared on her face. "I'm not in doubt of that. It's hardly a bad thing."

"H-how?"

"Well," she considered. "At the very least it's hardly the worst thing. It usually means, to some extent that you are genuine."

"A-and that's a good thing?  I mean," he drew a deep breath, picking at his sleeve, "I u-understand how it's a good thing, but, couldn't it...couldn't it be bad too?"

"If used by some people."

"O-or if you're genuine to the wrong person."

"Are you happening to think I'm that wrong person?" Jemima asked, brows going back up.

"N-no, of course not!"  He looked up, almost alarmed at that accusation, "No, I don't think th-that at all."

"Then I think we'll both be perfectly fine for this morning, don't you?"

Swallowing hard, Tumble nodded, "I think so."

She weaved a hand through her hair again and paused. "Were you being serious?"

He paused for a long moment before answering, "Yes?"

She considered, trying to decide if would end up being unbearably awkward or not. "I don't really carry a brush around with me," she admitted.

Tumble called in the brush he usually used on Mistoffelees' hair, "I...if you d-don't mind of course."

She blinked. "So you really are a personal servant than, aren't you?"

He looked a bit sheepish as he nodded, "R-really am."

She offered him a small smile, "Well, that's hardly the worst thing you could be."

Returning the smile, eh crossed the room to her side in order to start working on her hair, "Dare I ask what th-that might be?"

"Sociopath bent on destruction or a priestess trying so hard to rule a realm she destroys all the dark Blood she can find?" Jemima offered, tilting her head back slightly. "Someone trying to ignore the protocol of the Blood."

“That..."  He blinked, nodding slightly, "Well, I can promise I'm not th-those."  Having called in a fine-toothed comb, he started to carefully work at the first knot he had encountered.

"That's a reassurance," she hummed.

He rant eh comb through the place where the knot had been, smoothing out the curl of that lock before moving on, murmuring, "Glad to be reassuring."

"So how many times has anyone reassured you?" she asked, turning the tea cup around in front of her.

His hands stilled for a long moment and he stared at the back of her head before he continued brushing her hair, "What do you mean?"

"I simply mean, all things considered, when has anyone looked at you and tried to be reassuring?"

"I'm a servant, I find not many people look at me at all," he answered.  "Frankly, I make it my job not to be n-noticed."

"That must be lonely though," she commented, rolling her shoulders slightly and trying not to think about how vulnerable her position made her.

"It...I don't know if I would call it lonely.  I mean, there's Mistoffelees."

"Well, I suppose that's something, but he's only one person, who as far as I can tell isn't always around."

Tumble sighed softly, "No, he's not.  And, I-I suppose sometimes it can get lonely.  But at the same time it can be a good thing to go unnoticed, really."

"I'm curious how?" Jemima asked, tilting her head back slightly.

"Have you seen my employer?" He asked quietly, studiously focusing on her hair and the feel of it against his fingers as he coaxed the tangles out of it.

"Maybe you should find a new one."

He froze at that, "Th-that...I-I don't know if....N-no, I don't think th-that's possible."

"Anything is possible," she returned, tilting her head to watch him, red hair spilling over Tumble's hands. "Whether it's probable is another matter."

Tumble met her eyes briefly, before gently taking a different lock of hair in his fingers and working to smooth it, "You've m-met the man right?"

"Several times in fact," Jemima said. "But it is still possible."

"Alright, m-maybe not imp-possible, but certainly n-not p-probable," he admitted, keeping his gaze on the comb in his hand.

"What would you do if it was?" she asked, tilting her head to better allow him access to her hair.

"It's, it's no good to consider that if it's n-not, is it?"

"It's not bad to dream you know," she said. "To change things you have to have dreamers who dream up the impossible."

Tumble sighed, "But hope and dreams can do as much harm as good, too."

“Perhaps," she agreed. "But would there really be so much harm in it?"

"M-maybe not," he finally conceded.  "If...if it was p-possible to find a n-new employer.  I-I, honestly I don't know if I would.  N-not because I wouldn't w-want to, but..." He shook his head falling silent and turning his attention fully to her curls.

"Why not?" she pressed gently, now she couldn't see his eyes.

Working in silence for a long moment, he finally answered her, making certain all of his words were clear and had been thought of before he spoke, "Because I couldn't leave Mistoffelees alone with him in good conscience."

Jemima paused, managing not to say that she thought a Black Jeweled Warlord Prince should be able to take care of himself. "That's not terribly reassuring."

"It," he drew a deep breath, "It wasn't really meant to be.  It was meant to be honest, and I find that a fully honest answer is rarely reassuring."

She chuckled at that. "Well, that at least is entirely true. I suppose I just wonder why Mistoffelees stays with him even more than you do. I mean, even considering whatever past they have."

"Martin is...he saved Mistoffelees, in many senses of that term.  A-and there's...there's something between them that I don't know how to explain. But there's a feeling of...of debt in some ways I th-think."

"A century pays back any price," she replied. "At least it should."

"So one would think," he murmured.  "L-like I said though, there's something between them I can't explain--it's too complex."

"Complex isn't always best," she said, shaking her head but not pulling her hair away.

"I also didn't say it was good," Tumble reminded, gently brushing the hair he'd already untangled over her shoulder. "It's n-not healthy, but it's what's f-familiar."

"Is the familiar a reason to stay?"

"Sometimes."

"What's a reason worth leaving for then?"

"For me? A place to belong and to find a home," he answered softly.

She considered the wall opposite them. "I'm sure that's what scares your friend the most. Where would you look for a home?"

"I-I don't know.  I wouldn't know where to begin," Tumble murmured in response.

"Well, then what do you think you want?"

"People who care what happens.  A single place to settle in, a room that I recognize immediately upon waking."  He paused, "A place where I don't fear."

Deciding that she was done facing the wall, Jemima turned around and rose to meet his eyes. "Then why don't you find someplace without fear? I mean, there will always be fear, fear of loss even. Fear of tomorrow or someone to take your happiness away. But those are everyday fears and I don't think that's what you mean."

Tumble lowered his hands, vanishing the brush and comb and met her eyes, carefully considering his words, "Because there aren't places like that.  Not...not that I can safely leave for."

"It depends on who you take with you," she pointed out.

"Who would y-you suggest I take with me, then?"

"The most powerful Warlord Prince," she replied. "Convince him to stop being so scared himself and that he deserves it as much as you do."

"H-he's been with the man for over a hundred years.  Do...do you r-really think I'd be able to do that?"

"Well, you have his own heart as leverage," she returned.

"His...Y-you mean the Steward?"

She nodded. "There was even a love confession tonight,” Jemima said, arching a pointed brow.

"There…right, you did m-mention that.  I..."  He drew a steadying breath, as he weighed the options, "I'll try."

"But only if it's worth it,"  she added before reaching out to touch the side of his face before letting her palm drop and breezing out of the kitchen. He watched her go, sinking into the chair she'd vacated and twirled his Purple Dusk ring around his finger as he considered what she had said and whether he could do it. 

o-o-o

Griddlebone was in the garden.  She'd gone out there to think, to find some solitude while still being in sight of the palace and near enough to be reached if anything should happen.  She plucked a simple white flower, running her fingers over the petals absently before tucking it into her dark hair and continuing her stroll along the paths.

A short while later, Jemima swept into the garden, looking around before spotting where her queen was. Striding over, her hand kept reaching up to check where she had twisted her hair up.

Looking up, the queen offered her a smile, "Jemima.  How are you this morning?"

She made a strangled sound. "Nevermind that. How're you today?"

"Worrying over everything that's going on.  Has-has something happened?"

"Yes and no," she replied, glancing at the flowers surrounding the path.

"Start with the yes, maybe?"  Griddlebone suggested, watching the other woman.

"Coricopat scared Mistoffelees off and now I don't know what either of them will do because they're stuck in a spiral of feeling unworthy of each other, and Martin Smith's servant only really wants to live without fear but he's not willing to fight for that either and frankly, I'm worried about everything that moves and Cassandra and Electra cannot arrive soon enough."

Blinking at that, Griddlebone brushed a lock of her black hair behind her ear, "Coricopat scared Mistoffelees off.  And feels unworthy of him. Was the man born dumb?  And are you sure the servant won't fight for that?  And did you say there was a 'no' to the something happening?"

"Well, technically it's all talk," she said. "Nothing physical has happened in the world and there's been little movement. If it was any other people I'd say it was just a tiff."

"But because it's them it's a concern." She traced the leaf of a rose before shaking her head, "How badly did he scare him off?"

"Your Steward informed the probably emotionally unstable Warlord Prince scared of himself that he was in love with him," Jemima deadpanned back.

Griddlebone blinked, opened her mouth to speak, closed her mouth and blinked again.  "Please tell me you're joking."

"Not in the least," Jemima sighed. "He ran back to Martin."

"Damn it," she growled. "So not only did Coricopat completely scare him off, he scared him right back to possibly the worst man he could run to."

"Basically," Jemima agreed. "And then moaned to me about how unworthy he was."

"I'm going to kill him.  Is that a reasonable response to this?"

"Probably," Jemima agreed mildly.

"Good, because I'm sorely tempted."  The queen shook her head, "I assume you attempted to knock some sense into him?"

"I tried and I think mostly failed as he went to sulk on the couch," Jemima said, fingering one of the white flowers. "Was it this hard for you to get Sonya? Or are these males just particularly stubborn and snarly?"

"I don't remember it being this hard with Sonya, so I'm going to say they're just particularly stubborn and snarly.  That's not to say he didn't take some coaxing, but I would say we both courted each other," she answered, smiling faintly at her memories of her courtship with her consort.

"A mutual courtship sounds wonderful," Jemima sighed.

"It was.  It certainly meant that I knew he wanted me as I wanted him for one."  Turning her gaze to the palace, Griddlebone shook her head, "What do you think is going to happen, Jemi?"

"I don't know," she said, dropping the flower back on its branch. "I just don't know anymore. There's something going wrong again and I can't tell what."

Reaching up, Griddlebone removed the white flower she had placed in her hair and tugged lightly on the petals, not quite pulling them off, "Will we make it through?"

“That's always the hope," Jemima murmured.

The Queen drew a long breath before she asked the question that was weighing on her mind, "Was I wrong in welcoming Mistoffelees to the court?"

"I don't know," Jemima said, deflating. "He's still standing on that balance, as far as I can tell and I'm hoping he falls toward us and not away. He needs something I just can't tell what and I'd been hoping it was Coricopat."

Griddlebone considered that, her gaze on the flower before she reached up and threaded the stem through Jemima's hair--careful not to losen the curls from where the other woman had pulled them back, "We've done all I can think of.  We've made him welcome, opened the court to him, tried to make him feel comfortable, Hell he and Coricopat have been so entwined with one another that I would have sworn that my Steward would be that something.  Of course that was before he went stubborn and snarly and self-deprecating.  We, we just have to hope that we find that something in time."

"Can we hit Coricopat over the head anyway?" Jemima asked, looking up at Griddlebone and one hand gently touching the flower in her hair.

"I'm certainly for that plan.  He's still on about Franklin, isn't he?"  Griddlebone's question was far less a query and far more a confirmation of what she was certain of.

"Probably," Jemima sighed. "That certainly wasn't healthy for anyone."

"Son of a bitch," she muttered, brushing a hand over the petals of another flower. "That's been years, and he still doesn't think he's worth it.  Damn him.  Knocking him upside the head has my vote.  Do you think we could find someone willing to help with this intervention with my Steward?"

"Macavity," Jemima replied promptly. "Sonya might just laugh."

"Macavity it is.  It will simply involve telling him what Coricopat's still doing, and I think that could work.  Perhaps now, before Cori's had too much time to brood."

Jemima laughed, shaking her head before her expression became serious again. "Have you heard from the other Queen's yet?"

"We received a letter from Cassandra's court telling us that they had so far escaped unscathed, but that she and her triangle, at the very least, will be here within the week.  We're, we're still waiting to hear from Electra's."

Jemima sucked in a breath through her teeth. "That's worrying, but I'm glad Cassandra is coming. This whole business has been too strange."

"If it goes another three days without word from Electra, I think that we may have to see about sending someone to check on their court," the Queen murmured, her gaze drifting toward the palace again. "We need to know what's happening with them as well as keeping ourselves safe."

Jemima nodded. "You would think a century would not be long enough for even the shorter lived races to forget."

"Perhaps it isn't a matter of forgetting, though that's a terrifying thought, isn't it?"

"The living dream hasn't been dead twenty years!" Jemima shook her head. "If it's not forgetting what are they doing?"

Griddlebone shook her head, "I don't know, but you said it yourself, it's not enough time for even the short-lived races to so readily forget."

Tapping a finger against the leaves of the rose bush, Jemima sighed again. "We have an organization willfully trying to destroy the Protocol we live by. So far every single one of them is of the shorter lived races and we don't really know why." She shook her head. "We should go knock that sense into Coricopat."

Watching the other woman for a moment longer, the Queen nodded, and allowed the conversation to shift, "Yes, we should.  We'll locate Macavity on our way and then do so."

"I'd rather better know where Mistoffelees stands before the other Queen's arrive," Jemima shrugged, turning on her heel.

Griddlebone fell into step beside the Black Widow, "Macavity was running an especially intense training regimen when last I saw him. I think the males in my life may be a shade predictable," she admitted, the corners of her lips quirking upwards.

"I couldn't imagine why," Jemima drawled in response. "Actually, no, I like the predictable ones more."

The Queen nodded her agreement as they rounded the last corner out of the garden toward the training grounds, "Granted.  It would be somewhat nice though if we didn't have to intervene due to some of the predictable actions taken by them."

"Intervention would be nice to avoid, but I have to say I like knowing when we need to force one," Jemima said, fingers brushing across several flower petals as she walked.

"And at least we know which of them is most likely able to assist with any given intervention as well."

Jemima laughed, shaking her head. "I suppose that's something. If we had no help I'm not sure what we would do."

Griddlebone's lips curled upward into a smile, "Oh who knows.  Probably knock sense into them on our own."

"I'm not sure that would work with Coricopat, you know?" Jemima tilted her head. "He's too stubborn to believe anyone except Macavity."

"Alright, that's probably true.  But thankfully we have both of them here and Macavity should help us with this."

"So long as nothing else goes wrong this week."

"Please don't jinx us," the queen murmured as they reached the edge of the training field. Spotting her Master of the Guard she crossed the field toward him, coming to a stop a few yards away.

Macavity glanced back from where he was watching the drills. "Can I help you?" he asked, dark circles under his eyes.

"I was hoping you'd help me shake some sense into my Steward if you're up for it," she answered, stepping up beside him.

He blinked once and smiled. "I'm always up for it. What did he do?"

She focused her gaze on the drills that were being run as she answered, "Confessed his love to an emotionally unstable Warlord Prince and scared him off.  Oh, and then woke Jemima up and did I mention he insists he's not worthy of said Warlord Prince?"

Macavity sighed heavily. "And you know, I'm not even surprised." He paused, glancing at Jemima. "And what's your issue?"

She huffed, looking away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Griddlebone glanced at the other woman and shook her head, "Something about people living in fear while not wanting to.  Anyhow, Coricopat is in his study as per usual and we were hoping to head over there around now?"

"Certainly," Macavity said, and as they started walking he glanced over at Jemima. "Your hair looks lovely today," he said, tone lilting and teasing.

Very daintily, she stepped on his foot and kept walking.

Darting a look at the other two, Griddlebone shook her head and kept pace to the palace and through the corridors to Coricopat's study. Reaching the door, Macavity rapped on it and shoved it open without waiting for a response. "Please tell me you aren't sulking."

Coricopat startled from where he was seated behind his desk, "Sulking?  I've no reason to be sulking, what are you doing--" He broke off when he spotted Griddlebone and Jemima, "Oh you have got to be joking."

“It's an intervention of sorts, apparently," Macavity smirked.

"And why would you think that necessary?" he frowned.

Griddlebone crossed her arms, eyeing him, "How blunt do you want us to be?"

"Because I'm sure you don't want me to be too blunt," Macavity pointed out.

"I want you three to leave, but since I’m not going to get that and I'm probably going to be hearing it anyway, feel free to be blunt," his grey eyes narrowed, but he turned his gaze back to the papers on his desk.

Macavity sighed as Jemima moved over to perch at the edge of Coricopat's desk. "Come on Cor, you know better than anyone not to let the past get in front of you in the present."

Coricopat growled softly as Griddlebone pulled a chair up and settled into it, "I've no idea what you're talking about."

"You're letting your past relationship scare you off this one," Jemima said. "I mean, seriously, that stuff about being unworthy?"

"Nothing is scaring--" He stopped and frowned, "What relationship?"

"The one that apparently reached a level where you felt it wise to admit you were in love with the other person involved," Griddlebone answered.

"Actually, no.  It still wasn't at that point.  I slipped. I wasn't intending to tell him that," the Steward admitted.

"Why not?" Macavity frowned.

"Because I didn't feel it wise to tell him yet, if ever."

"Why not?" Macavity inquired again, Jemima fiddling with one of his paperweights.

"I don't see that that's actually your business," he answered sharply.

Griddlebone frowned, "Coricopat, why not?"

"Because I expected him to react as he did.  And I didn't want that to happen, quite frankly."

Jemima sighed and Macavity blinked at him. "So that's it, you're done, not even willing to fight?"

Coricopat looked up finally and blinked at Macavity, "Willing to fight?  And how would you suggest I do that Mac?"

"My suggestion would be to go and sweep him off his feet, inform him when he's down in your arms that you aren’t' going to let me run away because you're both worth it and that you're willing to wait for him to be able to figure it out too," Jemima replied and Macavity blinked at her.

"Sure, what she said," he added.

Coricopat gaped at her, "And you honestly think that would work on the man who all but ran from my rooms this morning?"

"Yes," she replied, truthful. "Because he's scared of a lot of things but he needs reassurance even more than you do."

"Coricopat, what do you have to lose?" Griddlbone finally spoke.

"What do I have...Griddlebone."

"I mean it.  He's already walked out, he needs to know exactly what Jemima said.  That he's worth it," Griddlebone said.

"Because otherwise it does look an awful lot like you've been using or screwing with him if you drop him after he leaves just once," Macavity said.

"Just..."  Coricopat looked at them wide-eyed, "You want me to tell him we're both worth this?  That...he is, I...and if he avoids me from here on?"

"Well, could you possibly break your heart more than it's already been?" Macavity asked. "Or take a risk for something even better?"

"He's worth, worth the risk.  But if he chooses to avoid me how do I change that?"

Griddlebone sighed, "Coricopat, you are one of the smartest men I know, and you know this palace inside and out.  Do you really think you wouldn’t be able to find him?"

"He's not really the type to hide," Jemima said.

Coricopat drew a steadying breath, "Alright.  I'll try."

"Good," Macavity said with a firm nod.

"That's all we're asking," Griddlebone murmured.

"The sooner the better," Jemima added.

The Steward drew a deep breath and nodded, "Now, will you all leave me to my work for a bit, please?"

"I need to get back and make sure no one's accidently stabbed anyone," Macavity said, heading for the door.

Griddlebone got to her feet, nodding slightly, "I'll leave you to it, but try to talk to him today, Cori."

"It would do everyone good," Jemima said, rising and breezing toward the door. Coricopat watched as they left, resting his arms on his desk and burying his head against them as he mulled over what they had said and whether he honestly could do it again.


	11. You're Still a Fool

Jemima considered the web in front of her and wanted to cry in frustration. She knew better than to attempt to weave anything when she could feel her moon time coming on, but she had stayed up all night working on the web to see it ruined in the light of dawn and no closer to any answers she was still looking for.

With a snarl of frustration, she cut the web from its loom, rolling the dark threads up and stuffing them into a corner before heading downstairs to the dining hall, hoping some sort of breakfast would already be on the table.

An hour later she was still sitting at the table, glaring at it when Mistoffelees strolled in, his hands in his pockets and looking like he'd slept less than her in his quest to now avoid both Coricopat and Martin. For a moment they just stared at each other before Mistoffelees found himself growling with out meaning to.

"What did I do?" Jemima blinked.

"You should be resting," he said, voice going low and strained, eyes narrowing.

"I'm sitting at a table!" she protested. "Drinking coffee."

"Maybe it should be tea," he responded, fingers curling into a fist in his pockets.

"You weren't this snarly last month," Jemima snapped in response and regretted saying it when his look turned dangerous, as he stalked around the table and braced an arm beside her.

"You should rest," he repeated. "In someplace were fewer people are likely to be."

Pausing, she considered his eyes which were looking dangerously glazed. "Right," she decided, figuring curling up in bed with a book was her only good choice left. "Are  you going to insist on escorting me to my bed chambers or am I allowed to do that much by myself?"

Mistoffelees jerked back, as if he had been struck, leaving her room to rise. "Rest," he said for the third time before suddenly turning and stalking back out of the dining room, energy swirling beneath his skin. He paced back and forth in front of the door, raking a frustrated hand through his hair.

Coricopat descended the stairs, making his way through the halls, but coming to a stop when he spotted the Warlord Prince.  He hadn't been able to find the other since his conversation with Griddlebone, Jemima and Macavity and it was starting to make him second-guess himself again, "Mistoffelees?"

Mistoffelees froze, staring at him like a small animal caught by the hunter. For a second he was so still he forgot to breathe or blink. When he finally dared to suck in a breath it stuttered through his lungs, a desire strong enough to hurt racing through his body. For a second he could only see Coricopat, the edges of his vision blurring down to that point. Taking in a second breath, it burned down the same way, and the third was no better.

The Steward watched him carefully, taking a wary step forward toward the more powerful man.  His gaze drifted briefly to the door of the breakfast room before returning to the other.

Feeling his hands shaking slightly, Mistoffelees took another harsh breath and turned on his heels, moving away as quickly as he could without actually running, focus narrowing to finding Griddlebone before he lost his mind.

Coricopat froze at that, considering the door again before retreating to his study instead.

Griddlebone was on her way down the stairs, pausing on the bottom step when she saw Mistoffelees, "Morning."

He could feel desire still twisting in his stomach with every movement, eyes darting up to her. "My Queen," he said, tone low and somewhere between a sultry purr and a growl. "I need to--"

Her eyes swept over him, taking into account his stance and his tone, "You need to leave for a couple of days."

"Yes," he said. "Three," and paused, swallowing. "Maybe more."

"We'll assume five.  There's a cabin, fifteen miles east.  It's what we have available.  There's a landing place right by it," She offered.

He nodded, having gone up a few steps to speak to her, leaping down them and throwing open the door to the palace, rushing by Jerrie who was entering to take up his butler duties and catching the winds once he was outside. Jerrie blinked in confusion, "Milady?"

"He'll be gone for a couple of days, it's nothing to concern yourself with, Jerrie."

The butler nodded and Griddlebone glanced into the breakfast room to find it empty.  She withdrew and made her way swiftly through the halls to her Steward's study.  She knocked quickly and let herself in, "What are you doing here and not at breakfast?"

"I had work to be done."

" _Don't_ try that right now.  Did you find Mistoffelees?"

Coricopat looked up at his queen and nodded, "This morning.  And he retreated without a word."

"And now he's left for a few days.  As in three.  Or four.  Perhaps even five."  She crossed her arms, watching him as she waited for her words to sink in.

His grey eyes widened, "You mean he...the cabin?"

"Yes."

"Please tell me you're not suggesting--"

"Are you really feeling so insecure with yourself again?"

"I was more concerned with the response to males that usually comes with the rut," he answered mostly honestly.

"Coricopat," she sighed, "You've been the focus of his desire for weeks.  Go.  We've a few days before you have any need to be back in this study."

"I can't leave with the court in--"

His queen frowned at him, "That’s up to you, but I say again, we don't need you in this study right now."

Coricopat paused for a long moment before gathering the papers from the desk and locking them in the top drawer.  He rose, "If that's the case, I should be on my way."

"Good," she swept out of the room to finally get herself breakfast.

The Steward watched her go before following. Gray-locking the study, he retreated upstairs to make sure he had anything he might possibly need--though whether he would make use of it was a different question entirely.  He was out the door and catching the Gray winds in less than a quarter of an hour.

o-o-o-o

Reaching the small, out of the way retreat sooner than Coricopat did, Mistoffelees looked around, feeling like he wanted to crawl out of his skin, and suddenly regretting coming to such a lovely place. He wanted to tear the cabin and its surroundings apart, the rut burning through him. Shaking his head, he glanced around while he was still aware, noticing a small lake nearby and looking over the cabin again.

His fingernails scrapped along the back of his other hand, leaving red welts as he tried to find something to focus on other than the sexual heat raging through him. The rut was a time when Warlord Prince's were driven toward thoughts of sex or violence, and nothing else. Other males scraped at their tempers enough to fray and destroy already stretched thin control.

He only hoped, having denied himself any sort of sexual release, he'd be able to find something to destroy besides himself.

Stripping his clothes off, he waded into the small lake, submerging himself in the cool water and feeling something in him ease slightly. Though the rut was still only starting, the water allowed his mind some space away from blind desires.

Coricopat came off of the winds, stepping away from where he dropped out of the winds and scanning the area for any sign of Mistoffelees.  He'd been up to the cabin once before, but the solitude of the place caught him off guard.  He knew the reasons behind it, but there was still a wariness that led his motions as he made his way past the cabin to the lake.  Stopping stopped when he came across the Warlord Prince's clothes, the Gray-Jeweled Prince watched the surface of the lake for a sign of the other.

Having draped his arms over the far bank, Mistoffelees tilted his head to see the far bank, blinking at the sight of someone else there, anger and lust wrapping around his chest when he realized who it was. Sinking under the water he swam back to the middle of the pond, reappearing there with his head peeking out of the water like a seal.

The motion catching his attention, Coricopat took a step nearer the water, weighing the pros and cons and deciding he'd come too far to even consider them at that point, "Shall I join you out there, then?"

"What are you doing here?" Mistoffelees asked, moving until he could touch his feet to the bottom.

"I was told you'd come out here.  I came seeking you," the answer was delivered calmly, though Coricopat could feel his heart rate speeding up.

"You shouldn't be here," Mistoffelees tried again, hands curling and uncurling at his sides.

"Because you're in rut?"

"Yes," he said, voice strained.

"I was aware of that when I chose to come out here, Mistoffelees."

"No," Mistoffelees said. "I'm sure you weren't. Have you ever tried to see someone through this?"

Coricopat paused for a long moment before he shook his head, "No.  I have not."

"Then you aren't aware," Mistoffelees said, pupils dilated enough his eyes looked entirely black. "You probably still have a small window to run away but it's not going to last."

"I'm not leaving," the Gray-Jeweled Prince spoke quietly, gaze still focused on Mistoffelees.

"You should," Mistoffelees repeated, head cocked to one side before he slinked from where he was. "Why are you here?" he asked again.

"I don't understand the question," Coricopat admitted, holding his ground as the other advanced.

"Why did you come?" Mistoffelees repeated, still advancing slowly on the other.

"Because I'm in love with you and I consider you worth the risk to myself in this situation," he answered.

"You're still a fool," Mistoffelees breathed out, coming finally to a stop right in front of him, head tilted back and water dripping off the ends of his thick hair. "I could hurt you," he added, one hand reaching out to wrap around Coricopat's jewel.

Coricopat swallowed hard when the smaller man grasped his jewel, but he managed not to step back, "Yes, you could.  You could strip me of my jewel power, destroy my mind and body. And I doubt it would cost you any significant power to do so."

"You should have run," Mistoffelees informed him, tugging on the Jewel in his hand to pull Coricopat's face down for a harsh kiss. Shoulders relaxing ever so slightly, the Prince leaned into the kiss, his mouth pliant beneath Mistoffelees'.  He parted his lips allowing the other access and the leading of the kiss.

"Submit," Mistoffelees managed a moment later. "Completely. Please."

Coricopat nodded very slightly, his body relaxed as he responded, "Completely."

Considering him again a moment Mistoffelees surged back into the kiss, pushing Coricopat down on the grass they were standing on and straddling him. Pushing his hands on his shoulders, Mistoffelees smeared their mouths back together.

Opening his mouth under the other man's lips, Coricopat relaxed further though one of his hands almost instinctively moved to Mistoffelees' side. With shaking hands Mistoffelees gave himself up entirely to the touch of the other, pushing their bodies together and letting himself give up control as the rut demanded finally.

Coricopat's breath caught at that and he arched against the other man, focusing briefly and vanishing his shirt, reveling in the contrast of the grass against his back and Mistoffelees' heat against his chest. Growling softly into the kiss, Mistoffelees pressed deeper against them.

When they were both spent, Mistoffelees rolled over, seeming entirely content to stay outside on the grass, having long since divested Coricopat of all his clothing.

The Gray-Jeweled Prince propped himself up on one elbow, glancing toward the cabin before bringing his gaze back to the Warlord Prince he lay beside. Eyes closed, Mistoffelees hummed once without moving.

Drawing a deep breath, Coricopat spoke quietly, "Perhaps we should consider moving indoors?" Mistoffelees froze for a moment, body tense before relaxing and flowing upwards, moving with a predator's grace that he usually managed to contain.

Pausing for the briefest of moments when Mistoffelees tensed, Coricopat rose with him, letting the Warlord Prince lead. Weaving his way into the cabin, Mistoffelees looked over his shoulder, vanishing the clothes he had discarded earlier. Once inside, he looked around, heading for the bed room, only to get distracted along the way. Humming deep in his throat again, he shoved Coricopat against the wall.

Coricopat startled but relaxed quickly at that motion, drawing a sharp breath with the other man's proximity.  He tilted his head back, exposing his throat and leaving his Jewel well displayed, in a motion of submission.

Biting lightly at his throat, Mistoffelees snarled against it, pushing their bodies together again and using the wall to hold Coricopat up. Gasping at that, Coricopat looped one leg around Mistoffelees’ waist, his back pressed against the rough wood of the wall.

Fingers digging into Coricopat's hips, Mistoffelees pressed his nose against his neck, holding himself there as his fingers played at the other's body. His breathing grew shorter as the sensations of Mistoffelees' touch washed over him and his grey eyes fluttered shut, "M-mother Night."

Smirking into his neck now, Mistoffelees hummed again, the sound low and long. Coricopat let his head fall back with a soft thump against the wall, his hands moving up to brace against the other man's shoulders.

"Would you allow me to take you even here?" Mistoffelees murmured.

His eyes opened again, the pupils blown wide, "Yes.  Hellsfire, yes."

Chuckling deep in the back of his throat, Mistoffelees leaned up to finally kiss him, pressing their mouths together, sliding their tongues around each other. Coricopat relaxed further, moaning against the kiss as he became even more plaint beneath the Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince's touch.

"You're mine," Mistoffelees growled. "Now, and later. I've claimed you and you're mine."

"Yes, yes, for now and for later," Coricopat replied breathlessly, a hint of the deep emotion he felt at those words twining about his response.

Growling again, Mistoffelees bit at his collarbone.

The third time they actually made it to the bed.

o-o-o-o

Tumblebrutus adjusted his grip on the tray he carried, pausing before he knocked lightly on Jemima's chamber door. She glanced up in surprise from where she had been curled up in bed, reading a particularly silly book. Though Mistoffelees was no longer there to snarl at her, she decided it was best to remain in bed where it was more comfortable anyway.

"Yes?" she called out at the door, placing a marker in the book and closing it, resting her hand on the cover.

Opening the door slightly, the Purple Dusk Warlord peeked around the door, "I, I brought you some tea, Lady Jemima.  If you would like it."

She blinked at him before nodding slightly. "If you would like to bring it," she replied, feeling her spine go up at the strange male entering her room when she was weak from her moon time and unable to use craft. Every other day of the month, a Purple Dusk Warlord wouldn't present the least problem, but without craft, and considering his employer, he was a danger.

He stepped in, leaving the door slightly ajar and approaching carefully, setting the tray down on the table by her bed, "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

She considered for a long moment, before rolling one shoulder gracefully. "I do not believe so."

Pouring her a cup of tea from the pot that Jenny had sent up when he'd asked for it, "Did you hear the Steward's followed Mistoffelees?"

"Did he?" she asked in surprise. "I would like to say I'm not surprised but considering how much he was moping I rather am."

"He left rather suddenly too," Tumble murmured as he handed her the cup and poured himself one as well.

"How suddenly?" she asked, accepting the cup and watching him poor one for himself but nodding slightly to allow him to stay.

"I think there was a twenty minute interval between the door closing behind them?  Perhaps thirty," he answered, sipping at his tea--which he'd instinctively poured as much as a mark of good faith as anything.

The corner of her mouth tilted up. "Well, I suppose that means Griddlebone got to him."

Tumble couldn't help but smile faintly, "I guess so.  If they both survive it, i-it could be a v-very good thing."

"Do you think it's a question of survival?" she asked. "You must have been him around enough to see him go through the rut?"

"I think that y-your steward brings out the lust that isn't a desire for violence that would end in death, so it's not as much of a question of s-survival I suppose," he didn't answer the question.

She blinked. "That was a careful avoid."

"I-I've been around him a long while, so, y-yes I've seen him go through rut."

"Well, it sounds like you don't expect our Steward to die a horrible death at any rate," she said, arching a brow. "You make it sound like he usually goes for violence instead of sex though."

"Not...not always."

"Not always?" Jemima pressed softly. She clearly wished to know but was not about to make any demands.

He started shutting off slightly, "He...he prefers to not cause damage if he's able to get away when it happens, but it doesn't...doesn’t always work.  And, and P-Prince M-Martin got him th-through it o-once."

"Once? Only once?"

"W-well, you've met th-the man.  H-how much do you th-think he likes t-to s-submit?"

"Not in the least," she murmured, taking a sip of tea. "I can't imagine he let Mistoffelees forget it either, afterwards."

Tumble dropped his gaze to his tea and shook his head, "No.  He did not."

She sighed. "I wish things were different," she murmured, turning her cup in her hands, seeking the warmth form it.

"How do you m-mean?" he asked softly, glancing up and studying her.

“With everything," she said and sighed again. "Everything you've ever implied about Mistoffelees, or Martin. Everything that could still go wrong."

Tumble sighed, "There's still a chance that, that it could work out a-alright."

"It's getting smaller," she said and frowned at the cup before startling at how much she'd revealed with even those small words.

He blinked at her, "Do, do you really think it so slim a chance as that?"

"Yes," she said. "There's so much that could go wrong."

"So much that could go right too, though," Tumble looked almost surprised that that sentiment had escaped him.

She arched a brow. "And how do you think it can go right?"

"Mistoffelees does care about your Steward, it, ti could be enough to h-help him find a home here.  That, that would place a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince in the court, a strong protection at the v-very least."

"If he doesn't decide to destroy it first," Jemima pointed out.

"Do you think he would?" Tumble asked.

"I think it's not an option that he's moved beyond yet."

The Warlord considered that for a long moment before nodding very slightly, "P-perhaps."

She hesitated. "Would you tell me why you originally came here?"

His eyes widened and his breath caught, "I-I...Not, not t-today.  I-I can't."

"Then I'll have to still believe in the worst," she said, looking back down at her tea.

"I-I," he shifted and glanced toward the door, "I-I should leave you to r-rest."

"If you would like to," she said mildly, considering her cold tea and sighing.

Tumble glanced at her tea, reaching out and touching the cup briefly as he placed a warming spell on it, "It-it's your chambers, if y-you want me to leave I c-can."

"Did I ever say I wanted you to leave?" she asked.

"W-well, no," he hesitated, knowing that the longer he stayed the more he risked slipping up about something or other that he really shouldn't say.

"Then it's your decision to make," she said, watching him. "But you don't often get decisions to make, do you?"

Tumble paused before shaking his head, "There, there aren't m-many options given when one works for M-Martin S-Smith."

"Then maybe you should have the chance to practice," she said with a faint smile.

That earned a nervous smile from him, "I-I'm not sure I even know h-how to go about it entirely."

"Would you rather stay, or would you rather go?" she asked, the question simple.

"I would rather stay," he answered quietly, watching her carefully.

"Then you may stay," she said, still watching him closely.

His lips quirked upward very slightly again, "Thank you."

"It's not much," Jemima said. "To thank me for. I'm sure I could make another cup of tea if you like." Even though he had made the effort to bring her tea, she always had tea on the shelves in her room and water nearby that could easily be heated with a simple spell.

"No, that's, that's alright.  Thank you f-for the offer though."

"Alright," she said with a smile. "I always keep the makings of tea with me when I can, though you might have had to heat the water yourself."

"That I am more than capable of, I-I assure you," he replied with a bit of a smile.

"I have complete faith in your ability to boil water," she said with a smile.

He actually huffed at that, the sound almost a laugh, "I am glad that y-you have faith in that, at the least."

"I have a lot more faith in you beyond that," she said, tone serious. "The question is whether you'll prove me right about all of it or not."

Tumble blinked at her, looking uncertain, "Wh-what do, do you think I-I would do otherwise?"

"What you've always done," she said.

He glanced away, "W-would you tell me what y-you hope I do?  O-or no?"

"I'd hope you stop living in fear," she replied. "And do what choices you think is right. But that would require choices."

"I've lived m-my whole l-life with fear.  It, it's not an easy th-thing to give up."

"No, it wouldn't be," she agreed. "It's something I hope Mistoffelees finds a way beyond it as well. There's many in this land who could still use healing."

"Do, do you think that it w-will actually come t-to them?"

"I hope it will," she said. "I'd bring it to everyone I could but... I cannot."

"E-everyone heals d-differently.  Perhaps, there, there might be time for it," he stilled, fearing the fact that there wouldn't be if Martin had his way.

"Only if the time is made," she said, still watching him and his reactions closely.

"O-or permitted."

"Make the time," she said.

"How?" he asked, looking at her again.

"I don't know," she admitted. "Whatever way you can."

Tumble sighed, shaking his head, "One can only heal i-if th-they know how."

She held out a hand. "Would you like a road map?"

He eyed her hand for a long moment before reaching to take it, "If, if y-you have one."

"It's a work in progress," she said.

"But, but you have some idea?" he asked mutedly, meeting her eyes.

"Some," she said.

"I want to stay," he murmured after a moment, meaning so much more than just staying where he was right then.

"Then I'll do everything my power to let you stay," she said, twining their fingers together.

Tumble managed a faint smile, "I wish it were a-as simple as th-that."

"We have a grey jeweled prince of our own," Jemima said. "And many darker jewels. But... if we could convince Mistoffelees to stay what could Martin do?"

"Possibly a-a good deal of d-damage before he left.  But, d-do you really th-think you can convince M-Mistoffelees to stay?"

"I've been trying since he got here," Jemima said. "He needs healing too."

"I hope he chooses t-to stay a-and heal."  He paused, "I-I think h-he likes it h-here.  I-I just don't know h-how much that always means."

"What do you mean?" she asked. "If that doesn't mean something?"

"S-sometimes, even if we h-have a choice, we don't believe w-we do," he answered softly.

"Then someone should convince him," she said.

o-o-o-o

Coricopat lay in the bed, eyes half lidded and the sheet draped over his hips as he watched Mistoffelees next to him.  He was stiff and sore in all the right places but was feeling the effects of a lack of food over the past couple of days on his gray's metabolism.  He could only imagine what Mistoffelees' Black was doing to him during this.  Sitting up slowly, he watched the other.  He neither wanted to wake him nor leave without his knowledge, caught between necessity and knowing a risk with the Warlord Prince in rut.

As soon as he moved, Mistoffelees' eyes snapped open, looking glazed and hungry but more tired than they had recently.

The gray-jeweled prince stilled, speaking softly, calmly, "Good morning."

"Is it morning?" Mistoffelees asked, tone low and smooth as he shifted, rolling over and stretching.

"I think that there is still a few minutes left in it, yes," came the answer, Coricopat still watching him even as he sat up a bit more.

"Where are you going?" Mistoffelees asked, voice a dangerous purr as he watched.

The Steward didn't move further as he replied, "I was hoping to get myself just a little bit of food, if I may. My body doesn't agree with not eating for long periods."

"Food," Mistoffelees repeated as if the very subject was strange to him. He twined an arm around Coricopat's waist, pressing his chest to the other's back. "Alright."

Coricopat leaned against the smaller man's heat very slightly, speaking softly, "Alright?"  He wasn't going to be able to move if Mistoffelees was holding on to him.  He could probably last another day or two before the need for food became too much for his body if it came down to it, but he would prefer the lucidity that came with his body not turning on itself.  He only hoped there were adequate supplies for when Mistoffelees finally came out of the rut so that they could see about counteracting some of the effects of the black jewel.

"Alright," Mistoffelees repeated, sliding around slightly so he could rise from the bed, keeping a hand twined around Coricopat.

Moving carefully and following Mistoffelees' lead, Coricopat rose as well, kept close by the other's arm and not minding though it would likely making searching the pantry difficult.

Walking with his arm around Coricopat's hip, Mistoffelees considered the cabin like he had never seen it before but the details didn't stick in his mind long.

They reached the kitchen and Coricopat stayed close to Mistoffelees as he made a quick search, finding something with high protein and nutrient content that would at least stave off problems a bit longer. Mistoffelees seemed willing to allow him to do what he liked so long as they didn't stop touching, though he watched the other like he couldn't quite figure out what he was doing.

He finished quickly, glad to see that there were more supplies than he expected there.  Glancing at Mistoffelees he inclined his head as he set the dish he had used in the sink, "Thank you."

"Thank you?" Mistoffelees repeated, nuzzling against Coricopat's shoulder.

"Mhm,"  He tilted his head, glancing at the other from the corner of his eye, "Are you going to eat anything?"

Mistoffelees hummed and dragged his teeth along Coricopat's shoulder. "Could eat you."

Coricopat gasped at that, "I'm not sure that's getting you the nutrition that will get you through for however long."

Laughing, Mistoffelees tilted his head, still lightly biting the skin there. "Why would I need that?"

His mind blanking for a moment, the steward pulled his focus back together as best he could, "Your body is going to start going after its reserves, which you don't, don't really have."

Hands resting on Coricopat's hips, Mistoffelees leaned back to drag his mouth over his shoulder blade. "My body seems to still be going," he said. "What would you feed me?"

Coricopat's breath hitched and his mind blanked for a moment at that, "Something, something with a high energy content."

"I have lots of energy," Mistoffelees smirked, hands tracing up and down Coricopat's hip bones.

That garnered a soft sound in the back of the other man's throat, "No, no argument there.  All I'm saying is, is just a bit of food might, might not go amiss."

"Would you feed me then?" Mistoffelees asked, kissing between his shoulders.

Coricopat closed his eyes before nodding, "Y-yes."

"Alright then," he said, drawing back and not even bothering to leash any of his sexual energy. He didn't stop touching Coricopat though, fingers still on his arm.

Concentration rapidly diminishing, Coricopat put together something simple but that would hopefully give the other some of the nutrients that his body was burning through at rates the gray-jeweled prince couldn't comprehend.  He picked up a piece, holding it between his thumb and forefinger as he turned and offered it to Mistoffelees, the sexual heat around them making him want to forget the entire idea of food.

Wrapping both his hands around Coricopat's wrist and meeting his eyes, Mistoffelees accepted the piece. His breathing growing ragged as his eyes glazed, Coricopat tried to gather thoughts together again, "It, it's not easy to feed you if I don't, don't have that hand."

"Alright," Mistoffelees said, smirking and letting the hand go.

Trying to remember why he had asked the other to let him go, Coricopat blinked rapidly and repeated the motion with the food, beginning to think this had been a bad idea for his own sanity that day. Eating the next several pieces, Mistoffelees didn't take his eyes away from Coricopat the entire time. "Are you quite satisfied yet?" he asked, eyes glazed.

The steward swallowed hard, setting the plate aside, "Yes."

"Good," Mistoffelees said, voice dropping into almost a growl as he dragged Coricopat toward him.

Breath catching and an almost whine sounding in the back of his throat, Coricopat moved easily with that, every nerve and sense buzzing with Mistoffelees' closeness.

"Bed," Mistoffelees said. "Unless you don't like the dishes on the table."

"Bed," Coricopat agreed, not entirely interested in having sex in the kitchen, though the bed seemed a good deal further than he knew it was.

Mistoffelees laughed, shoving him backward and against the wall. Gasping, Coricopat tipped his head back, more than willing to be had when where and how Mistoffelees pleased.

o-o-o-o

Rumpleteazer exited the palace, heading for the training field.  She had been working at her web, but had only managed to produce an incomprehensible knot.  She had thought there had been a flicker of something before she had lost it and had left the workroom in the hopes of clearing her head and enabling herself to return to her work again.  She paused on the edge of the training grounds, watching Macavity.

Having felt her approach, Macavity started showing off a bit more flair, making Alonzo narrow his eyes at him and shake his head. Teazer attempted to suppress a smile, but knew she failed horribly.  She moved over near the water waited for those on the field, never taking her eyes off the Master of the Guard.

"Must you?" Alonzo asked and yelped when Macavity tripped him with the stick he was carrying.

That earned a laugh from Teazer that she quickly suppressed, clapping a hand over her mouth, her eyes still dancing.

Dragging himself back to his feet, Alonzo glanced over at her. "Oh, you might as well laugh," he said, dusting off his sleeves. Macavity just smirked.

"Sorry," she managed, not trusting herself to say more without giggling.

"I was just about to head in anyway," he said, shaking his head again. "I'm hungry."

She waved to him, grinning, "Tell my brother hello from me if you see him."

"I," he blushed. "I'm sure I won't," he said and scurried off.

For a long moment Macavity watched her. "Need any exercise yourself?"

She considered him before answering, "If you can promise not to land me like you did Alonzo."

"I'll try not to," he said with a smirk. "But I am expected to treat all my students the same."

"You wouldn't want to get a reputation for favoritism after all," she agreed, lips curling upward.

"Of course not," he agreed, starting her through a slow warm up.

Teazer moved smoothly and carefully through the warm up, speaking after a moment, "Martin Smith seems to have kept himself pretty scarce since Mistoffelees and Coricopat have been gone.  Not that we saw much of him before that either."

"Wasn't he just going to be here for one night?" Macavity asked.

"So I had heard," she replied.  "And yet, here we are and he's still here.  Last I heard Jemima was trying to talk his servant into staying here when Smith moves onwards. Sooner rather than later one can hope."

"Really?" Macavity asked. "He doesn't seem like much."

"I think there's more to him than meets the eye.  I doubt many would appear like much as a Purple Dusk serving a Gray and spending time around a Black.  He's managed this long around both of them after all, however timid he's come out of it," Teazer said with a shrug that she transferred into her next block.

"So I'm going to assume he's timid because of Martin, but if it's also because of Mistoffelees, I'd still like to be worried," Macavity said, twining around her in another move.

She turned to keep him in her sights, "Based on what I've seen of him around Mistoffelees?  I think it's Martin that's made him so timid.  Either way, Jemima's trying to get him to stay."

"And how has dear Jemima been?" Macavity asked. "Up and about again finally without any Warlord Princes snarling at her?"

"Yes, but taking it easy at the same time," Teazer answered.  "She's doing well, though worried about something in her webs."

“She usually is," Macavity agreed.

"She keeps talking about choices, but I don't know whose and it's worrying me now.  I thought I almost saw something in my own web today, and then I managed to make a complete mess of it so I don't know if I did or not," she grimaced.

"What do you think you say?" he asked.

"I don't, I don't know.  I just know it wasn't anything I liked the look of. Some sort of destruction, maybe it could be headed off, I don't have any context for it though."

He frowned, not liking the sound of any sort of destruction with or without context. "And have you been exploring your jewel?" he asked instead.

She managed a smile at that and nodded, "I have.  It's, it's different, but I'm feeling more confident with it."

"I'm glad," he said. "It takes a while to adjust."

"It's strange having a jewel so much darker than my previous one," she said.  "But the dividing line is a good place to land."

Macavity grinned at her, stepping back from the drill as they finished. "I'm glad you think that. Sometimes people consider the line lesser but it... it suits you to stand in both worlds."

"I grew up with a light jewel, I see no reason to see the opal as less," she replied with a smile and shrug as she lowered her stick.

"It still doesn't help Sonya," Macavity pointed out.

"I have a completely different position than Sonya though.  He's the consort to a Sapphire queen and the other two corners of her triad are darker than she is, much less him."

“The point stands," Macavity said, reaching a hand out to touch her face. "That I'm glad you're content with it."

She leaned into the touch, offering him a gentle smile, "Thank you.  I am content." She paused for a moment, "What was it like having it as your birthright?"

He laughed. "Stressful," he said. "But certainly worth it."

That earned a quiet laugh, "I'm glad to hear it was worth it."

"My brother was a pain from the moment he did his birthright," Macavity said, wrinkling his nose.

"What was his birthright?" she asked, watching him and suppressing a smile.

"Sapphire, the bastard," he said and rolled his eyes. "Put 'Straps into a sulk. For years."

She giggled and covered her mouth to suppress it, "Sorry.  I'm just realizing exactly what you mean by pain.  Munkustrap didn't get the Sapphire until the Offering and you're Red.  Where did your other brother land after the Offering, since he started with Sapphire?"

"Ebon Gray," he said and sighed. "And he has the arrogance to make that fact really annoying."

Her eyes widened at that, "Ebon Gray.  You've rather a dark family."

"Bloodlines often go together," he agreed. "In terms of darkness I mean."

"True," she admitted.  "I'm not certain I've met your brother, when I come to think about it.”

"He's been at another court for quite a while now," Macavity said. "We speak quite often and he's started to mellow finally."

That earned a smile, "Which court?"

"Cassandra's," he said. "I get a lot of letters from her Steward."

Teazer laughed again, "Oh dear, that doesn't sound like it bodes exceptionally well."

“As I said, he's been mellowing," he said with a laugh. "But it's taken him some time to come down the high of his offering. Decades, really."

"Well, I hope to meet him some day, he sounds like an interesting man.  Though not one to compare to his brother," she glanced up at the Warlord Prince.

"That's flattering," Macavity said, laughing again. "But he really is something."

"Based on what I've seen and know of your family so far?  I'm not surprised."

He laughed. "'Straps is downright sane, let me put it that way. But you seem like you've never minded."

She grinned, "No, I've never minded at all."

Macavity was about to say something when a panicked thought was sent out to all the males in the area from inside the mansion. Moments later other reports started coming in from down the street that there were strangers approaching. "Something's gone wrong," he said, swiveling the stick around.

Teazer looked up at him in some alarm, "What sort of something?"

"I don't know," he said and ordered everyone he could reach to retreat inside the mansion. "Get inside. Find Jemima."

She nodded once, hurrying inside and seeking out her mentor, even as she listened to those she passed and hoped to catch a word of what was happening.

Inside the mansion, near a second story window, Martin scowled down at Alonzo, who had set off the alarm when he found Martin signaling the others outside. "You really shouldn't have done that," Martin said, shaking his head slightly.

Still coughing up blood from where Martin had attacked, Alonzo just snarled from where he was collapsed against the wall.

"It's not even worth killing you," Martin said, though he kicked him on the way past. "I have bigger issues, since Mistoffelees washed out."

Teazer finally found Jemima at just about the same instant Tumblebrutus arrived, having been seeking out the Black Widow.  The Purple Dusk warlord was looking a bit panicked, and his gaze darted quickly to Teazer as though assessing her as a threat.

"Tumble," Jemima said in some surprise. "What is going on?"

"It's Martin," he managed.  "I'm so sorry I should have told you long before, before this.  I just hoped, I hoped he'd leave it to Mistoffelees.  And with the way that was going it, it wouldn't happen," his breathing was rapid as he spoke. 

Teazer cut in quickly, "Macavity sent me to find you, Jemima, he says something's gone wrong.  Something came through the spear thread I think."

"The spear thread?" Jemima frowned. "Who would use that instead of a..." she paused, worry in her gut. "We need to account for those with lighter jewels," she said and turned to Teazer. "Alright, well I need you to find Macavity. If there are strangers trying to come here, he'll have to get defenders up. But we have to find Griddlebone and make sure she's protected. Tea, I need you to start accounting for people. You, come with me," she said, pointing to Tumble. "Explain things to me on the way. We're finding the Queen."

Teazer nodded, leaving swiftly to do as instructed, sending the first person she saw to assist Macavity and gathering the next three to help her take an accounting.  Tumble fell in with Jemima, "It's Martin, he, it's no accident Mistoffelees came here.  He was sent ahead and he didn't finish the job that Martin set for him, so Martin came."  He easily kept pace with her, glancing about both for the Queen and to make certain his employer was nowhere in the hall they were heading down, "He's working distantly with the group that attacked Griddlebone at that gala and went after Macavity and Teazer."

"So he did come here to kill her," she sighed. "He's done a poor job of it. He's had a lot of chances he hasn't taken." Moving quickly, she contacted Macavity on a red thread.

*Are you shutting down the front?* she asked.

*Yes* he sent back.

*Finish and join me where the Queen is* Jemima said and turned back to Tumble. "Alright, then how does Martin usually do these sorts of things?"

"He usually prefers to avoid doing it directly, it's why the people out front, it's why he sent Mistoffelees ahead."  He raked a hand through his hair, "But if all else fails he's quick, he's brutal and he's efficient.  No remorse.  He will go through anyone he has to to get to his target."

"That's a lot of people," Jemima said. "But why would he make Mistoffelees do his dirty work?" As soon as she asked, she shook her head. "No, philosophical questions can wait until later."

"Who would be able to stand against a Black Jeweled Warlord Prince?" Tumble replied.  "It doesn't matter at the moment, though, M-Mistoffelees and Coricopat both being gone m-means he's the darkest jewel here."

"That doesn't always matter," she said, though it sounded faint even to her own ears.

He glanced at her, but didn't voice his true thoughts on that, "No.  But those people at the front will k-keep part of the court distracted there."

"Which l-lowers the number he has to deal with directly."

"Hells fire," she muttered. "He must have been planning this since Mistoffelees left."

"A-at least," Tumble agreed, only hoping they could reach the queen before Martin did.

"Hells fire," she repeated and turned the next corner to find Sonya standing in front of the library. "Get inside," she said, assuming Griddlebone was inside.

"What do you need of me?" Tumble asked, caught between staying by Jemima's side and willing to do whatever needed to be done.  He knew he wouldn't be much good assisting in a shield, not against a gray.

"Stay here," she said. "You know him more than anyone, it might help." Following Sonya inside the room she shut the door. *Macavity, get here faster. Jerrie too if you can spare him.*

Griddlebone was pacing near the bookshelves, "Jemima, what is going on?"

"We seem to be under attack," Jemima said. "To no one's great surprise it appears to be Martin."

"Why didn't we kick him out?" Sonya asked, the question entirely rhetorical now.

"Because we had no proof," the queen answered.  "Is everyone accounted for?"

"No," Jemima said. "Not yet. I still don't know who set off the spear thread."

"Alonzo," Sonya said and Jemima's head whipped over in terror.

"But he's a yellow, Martin's a grey!"

Griddlebone paled, her hand gripping the back of a chair tightly, "We need to know.  We can't, we can't assume.  But why Martin would have left him breathing I don't--"

"Because he would have considered killing a yellow to be beneath him," Tumble spoke from where he hadn't moved away from the door.  "M-Martin's efficient, but he also won't do more than he has to to get h-his job done."

“Thank god for some arrogance," Jemima said and Sonya shook his head.

"It's still no guarantee," Griddlebone murmured. 

Tumble shook his head, "N-no, but if he didn't do it with the first strike, A-alonzo should still be breathing.  Martin h-has other targets that will take enough of his power."

"But what do we do then?" Sonya asked.

"We wait," Jemima said, looking at Griddlebone.

The queen nodded, "And hope that we can hold out."

"Contact the other queens if you can," Sonya asked Jemima. "And I suppose we hope that Coricopat will be back soon." He paused again, looking at Tumble. "Though I'm not sure I want him bringing Mistoffelees back."

Tumble paused for a long moment before speaking, "I don't know what Mistoffelees would do against Martin himself, but he..." he paused, "H-he, I've never s-seen him care for a c-court like he does this one, b-before."

"But does he care enough?" Sonya asked. "More than the past is still not enough to pitch that scale."

"I'm not, I'm not sure," the warlord admitted quietly.  "We c-can only hope he does."


	12. It's a Matter of Will Not Ability

 Waking up slowly, Mistoffelees blinked at the ceiling, his eyes clear for the first time in several days and feeling wrung out and shaken. Bracing himself on one arm, he rubbed his hand over his eyes and wondered how he was getting himself to the kitchen with how /hungry/ he felt. For a moment he thought about that before his eyes snapped over to Coricopat, who was sleeping.

Worried that he should allow the other to sleep, Mistoffelees started shaking his shoulder instead. "Coricopat," he said. "Cori. Wake up."

The gray-jeweled prince snapped awake at that, "What?  Mistoffelees?"

"Are you hurt?" he asked, tone stiff in fear.

Grey eyes met gold and he shook his head, "Stiff and sore. But in a good way," he was quick to assure.  "You did nothing to hurt me."

"Are you certain?" Mistoffelees demanded, to be sure himself.

Coricopat propped himself up on his elbows, looking at the Warlord Prince for a long moment, "I'm quite certain, yes.  You're welcome to check, but I promise you didn't hurt me."

Mistoffelees considered him a moment more and sagged against his chest, curling up there. "Alright."

One of Coricopat's hands moved to card through the other's black hair, "We're probably both in need of something to eat.  You've had barely a handful of morsels since going into the rut."

"I'm so hungry," he muttered, sounding surly and paused. "Wait I ate?"

"Sort of," Coricopat replied.  "Not very much, and it was already the morning of the third day by that time."

Mistoffelees tilted his head back to blink at him. "Yet you convinced me to eat at all." He looked like he wasn't sure what to do with that. "You idiot you shouldn't even have come."

"You said that when I arrived too," Coricopat murmured.  "But I did.  And I'm alright."

"You still shouldn’t' have," he muttered again.

"Well, there's not much to be done about that _now_ ," the steward pointed out, too tired and bone deep content to be testy.

"And the next time you decide to do something stupid for me?" Mistoffelees asked, not looking at him.

"I don't know.  Will I do something else stupid for you?"  Coricopat asked, mildly.

"I'd rather you not live to regret it," he said instead.

"Regret what specifically?"

“Doing something stupid," Mistoffelees said in a huff, pushing himself up and swaying slightly when he stood. "There is food here, right?" he asked.

Coricopat drew himself into a sitting position and stretched his back before rising, "Yes, actually.  Enough to help until we can get back to the court at the least."

"Good," Mistoffelees said and turned on his heel, stalking to the kitchen before realizing he had no clothes and hadn't seen any in the bedroom either. Considering, he called them in from where they had been vanished several days before and hopped into his pants before considering the pantry.

Calling in his own clothing, Coricopat pulled out his trousers and followed the Warlord Prince, leaning against the kitchen doorway and simply watching him for a long moment.

"Did you eat?" he asked, not turning around.

"Some," he answered, stepping into the kitchen finally.  "More than you did."

Mistoffelees glanced over his shoulder, startled by that answer too. "However did you manage?" he asked under his breath before shaking his head and pulling down food to start making enough for both of them, though he called in extra food from his storage.

"I was never out of your sight and you kept your hands on me the entire time," Coricopat answered, locating dishes, both for cooking and for eating from.

"Still," Mistoffelees said. "You managed it."

He nodded very slightly, not entirely sure how he had done it himself.

"I'm sorry," Mistoffelees said after a moment, looking at the food rather than him.

That garnered a blink, Coricopat turning to look at him fully, "What?"

"I don't," he started and sighed. "I don't like people seeing me out of control. Not even you."

He paused before reaching out to place a gentle hand on the other's shoulder, "Mistoffelees, I..."

Tensing, Mistoffelees poked at the food he was preparing on the old stove up at the cabin.

Coricopat sighed and drew his hand back, "There's no reason for you to be apologizing about it.  It's part of who you are."

"It still means I used you," he said. "In some way."

"Mistoffelees, I chose to come, knowing the two possible outcomes.  I could have stayed at the court but I _chose_ not to."

Snarling in a breath, Mistoffelees let it out, holding onto the pot too tightly. "You did," he admitted. "You chose but that doesn't mean I have to be... pleased about it."

Coricopat sighed through his nose, "And I'm not asking you to be.  I just, you're not entirely to blame.  It's your nature and I put myself here at this time."

"I could have killed you instead," Mistoffelees said.

He paused for a long moment before nodding, "Yes, you could have."

"It was a risk you too," Mistoffelees said. "I could have killed you the first day or any of the other times. Like when you tried to get food."

"And, and I was well aware of that," Coricopat answered, mutedly.

"You shouldn't have risked it," Mistoffelees said. "Your court needs you."

"My queen is the one who told me where you'd gone," Coricopat replied.  He paused, "We need you too, you know."

Mistoffelees paused for a long moment before he yanked the food off the stove, shoving it onto plates and pressing one to Coricopat's chest before he sat down hard with his own.

Pausing and sighing, having a feeling he'd said something he shouldn't have again, Coricopat sat down across from Mistoffelees, turning most of his attention to the food.

"I have to leave," Mistoffelees said after a long time of glaring at his food as he ate it.

"What?"  Coricopat stared at him, "Why?"

"Because I can't stay," Mistoffelees said, voice faint.

The gray-jeweled prince drew a steadying breath, "Why can't you stay?"

"Because I don't belong," he said. "Because I can't stay, I have too many secrets and you care too  much and... and I care too much and I'm not supposed to."

"Would it be so bad as all that to stay?" Coricopat asked, his tone strained.  "And what do you mean not supposed to?"

"I don't want people to fall in love with me," Mistoffelees said, tone matching Coricopat's. "And I don't want a queen."

Coricopat didn't address the first point because whether Mistoffelees wanted it or not he was in love with him, "Has she become your queen?"

For a moment Mistoffelees tensed, staring at him in stony silence. "It doesn't matter."

"Why?" Coricopat pressed, feeling like he was on dangerous ground but unwilling to let it go.

"Because I don't want to be tied down and certainly not to a queen," Mistoffelees growled.

Coricopat frowned at that, but nodded finally, "If that's the way you feel it must be. You and I both know she's not like other queens you've known, though."

"Does that matter?" Mistoffelees demanded.

"Perhaps it should," he replied sharply, but startled as a loud knock came at the door of the cabin.

 Mistoffelees' head snapped over. "Who is it?" he demanded, voice almost a growl.

"Jerrie," came the answer. "If you're...if you're able we need you at court.  Now." 

Coricopat tensed at the green-jeweled warlord's tone, something almost panicked in it..  He called in his shirt, pulling it on as he crossed to the door, opening it, "What's happened?" 

"We're under attack, from both inside and out," his eyes darted to Mistoffelees and then back to Coricopat.  "Martin's gone after the queen."

Every muscle froze, locking into place one by one as Mistoffelees looked back at him, hands folded over the table. "When?"

"Alonzo sent out the call on the spear thread ten minutes before I caught the winds," Jerrie answered.  "Riding the green I made it here within the hour." 

Coricopat glanced at Mistoffelees, even as he was pulling on the last pieces of his clothing, putting his gray jewel pendant on last, the ring never having left his finger, "You said outside as well." 

Jerrie nodded, "There's a band of others, I don't know their ranks, but we've knowledge enough t' assume they're with the same company who attacked Griddlebone once already."

"We'll ride the black back," Mistoffelees said, rising to his feet and leaving chill behind. "Do you have anything here?" he asked Coricopat.

Coricopat shook his head, "No, I only came with my clothes."  Jerrie eyed the Warlord Prince warily, but didn't protest.

"Good," Mistoffelees said, breezing through the door. Jerrie glanced at Coricopat, not voicing his doubts as to which side Mistoffelees would be on once they reached the court.  The steward ignored the look, keeping pace with Mistoffelees.

Once they caught the black winds, they arrived at the palace much faster. Mistoffelees alighted on the landing and glanced around, taking stock of the shields around the palace and who was standing outside.

Coricopat reached out along the red thread for either Macavity of Jemima, even as his gaze swept over the grounds, *Where's Smith and where is the queen?*

*The queen is in the library* Jemima sent back.

*We don't know where Smith is* Macavity added after a beat and he sounded vaguely out of breath. *But he's inside we think*

Having finished his survey, Mistoffelees swept up the pathway, startling some of the warlords and princes leading the outside attack. "I would leave," he said, glancing at one with sleepy eyes. "You might survive if you go now."

Coricopat came close on Mistoffelees' heels, feeling his anger starting to spiral downward, his gray worn prominently on his chest.  Jerrie's green was concealed and he kept a pace or two behind Coricopat, his attention on the palace itself and the difficulty it would be to enter.

Several of the men gave him a startled look and a few seemed to disappear instantly, fleeing the obvious wrath of gray but more so black. Several of them bothered to step in front of Mistoffelees and were burned out almost instantly.

 Coricopat's tone was headed toward dangerously even, as he murmured, "We're going to need to know what they know if there is more to their group than this."  Even as he said it, he threw up a gray shield to block a sapphire attack from the right and responded with a counter attack that burned the sapphire warlord out, ripping through his mind and jewels ruthlessly.

"What do you want to know?" Mistoffelees asked, tilting his head.

"Enough to take out this blight at the root," Coricopat growled.  "They've killed and broken too many queens."

"True," Mistoffelees said. "I can leave a few alive for questioning," he added and stopped in front of the shield. "We should break this."

The steward considered the shield, "Why break it now?  It works to keep others out just as surely as it keeps those within it in."

"And how do you propose to get through it then?" he asked, tilting his head lazily.

Coricopat swore under his breath, "Fine we break it.  He glanced at Mistoffelees and then back to where Jerrie was still a couple of paces behind them.

Smiling coldly, Mistoffelees punched black power through the shield, rocking it but not breaking it yet. Coricopat sent a burst of gray against the shield, feeling it give but still hold.

Tilting his head, Mistoffelees threw another burst of power and the shields set up like a bubble shattered into pieces. "The shield was built from the outside," he said. "To keep them inside. Which means we should be inside."

Coricopat nodded once, starting for the door, but pulling up short at a touch on his elbow.  Jerrie shook his head, glancing at Mistoffelees, "Not that way.  The side door gets you in closer to where you'll be needed most."

"Good," Mistoffelees said, turning that way.

Jerrie slipped on ahead of them, leading the way to the door and getting inside, pausing.  They were two halls away from the library, but no one was sure where Smith was still.

"We should go to the library," Mistoffelees said. "Their shields must be weakening."

Jerrie looked uncertain about allowing Mistoffelees anywhere near the queen and Martin, still not sure where the warlord prince's loyalty lay.  There wasn't much he or Coricopat would be able to do to prevent it though and so he kept his mouth shut as the steward turned left toward the library, slipping through the well known halls. Mistoffelees floated behind him, barely seeming to move as he hunted.

Senses on alert, Coricopat paused very briefly just around the corner from the library.  He stepped around the corner, not entirely certain what he might see there. The walls looked warped around the door but no one else was there and Mistoffelees breezed up to the door and knocked. "Let us in," he called.

There was a brief pause before Tumblebrutus' voice was heard, "Who's with you?" 

"Coricopat and Jerrie," the steward answered before the Warlord Prince could.  Another brief moment and the door opened to allow them entry, closing swiftly behind them again. Mistoffelees tossed up a black shield behind them.

Jerrie tensed as he felt the dark power settle around the room, hoping they hadn't just made a fatal mistake.  Griddlebone turned from where she had been pacing, looking from Mistoffelees to Coricopat and back, but remaining silent for the moment.

"How are you?" Mistoffelees asked, almost a croon as he found himself gravitating toward the queen.

"Alive and thus far unharmed, but I worry for my court," she answered, never taking her gaze from him.

“Your court is mostly fine," he said. "As far as I could see."

She breathed a soft sigh of what might have been relief and nodded almost imperceptibly, "And what goes on outside?"

"We've scared some of them away," he said with a cold smile.

Her tone grew more cautious, "And Martin?" 

Her steward finally spoke, "We don't know yet."

"We did not see him," Mistoffelees agreed. "But it appears that he has attacked this door."

"Several times," Macavity said, posture guarded as he watched Mistoffelees.

"W-we're not sure how much longer the shields would have held," Tumble admitted quietly from where he was still near the door.

"Two red jewels and a sapphire against a grey," Mistoffelees nodded. "Martin does not have very good timing."

"Or he has very good timing," Macavity said, watching him.

"It would h-have gone worse if there w-was no warning," Tumble managed, darting a glance from Macavity to Mistoffelees.  Jerrie's gaze also darted between them, focus mostly on Mistoffelees.

"Are you implying something?" Mistoffelees asked, watching Macavity.

"Should I be?" Macavity asked.

"Now's not the time for this," Griddlebone said, sharply. 

Jerrie spoke quietly, "Beggin' y' pardon, milady, now may be the only time for this."

"If that was the case you should certainly have not let me into the room," Mistoffelees said, face dropping even further.

"It's not like we could h--" the green-jeweled warlord was cut off by a sharp word from his queen. 

"Enough.  Mistoffelees, please answer me honestly?  Do you stand with us?"

For a long moment there was silence, everyone watching Mistoffelees. "Do you doubt me?" he asked and rolled his shoulders. "I stand with you."

"You could be lying," Macavity snarled.

“And I could rip your throat out," Mistoffelees replied just as coldly.

"Peace, Macavity.  Mistoffelees," Griddlebone said, keeping her tone calm.  "I don't doubt you.  I never have."

"Perhaps you should have," Mistoffelees said faintly and turned at a sound at the door.

Tumble startled at that sound, taking several steps away from the door automatically.  Coricopat's gaze darted in that direction and he growled quietly.

Mistoffelees looked back at Griddlebone. "I would stay away from the door, lady," he said, carefully not looking at the door.

The queen nodded very slightly, feeling a gray shield settle around her person and she cast a look at her Steward who inclined his head to her very slightly.  Coricopat glanced at Mistoffelees, speaking quietly, "What do you plan to do?"

"I haven't decided yet," he said and turned toward the door.

Jerrie, keeping his eyes on the door, moved to Jemima's side and spoke in an undertone that he hoped hid the worst of the fear he had felt at Alonzo being the one to send the warning out, "Do we know anythin' 'bout Alonzo, or Teazer?"

"No," she said. "We haven't heard from either of them in a while. Tumble's convinced Alonzo wouldn't be dead."

The green-jeweled warlord pulled his gaze away from the door briefly at that, "Why?"

"Because Martin would consider it beneath him, if he didn't do it on the first strike," Tumble answered from where he'd slipped up unnoticed and caused Jerrie to nearly jump out of his skin.

Mistoffelees was still considering the door. "He does not kill the lighter jewels," he said. "Not if he can help it. Alonzo probably didn't even make him that angry."

Jerrie felt something that had been tightening in his chest, relax very slightly though it wouldn't dissipate and his focus narrowed in on the door, "And what of Opals?"

"It depends on how much she angered him," he said, pushing the door open. Looking down the hallway it was empty and he frowned, throwing up a red shield behind him as he walked out.

"Are we letting him go alone?"  Jerrie asked, frowning at the shield that only Coricopat could be guaranteed to get through. 

The steward turned hi ring around his finger as he considered, eyes narrowed as he finally shook his head, "No, I'm not sure that's wise."

"Then I'd go after him," Jemima said. "Put up a shield on your way out, I'll fortify it."

Coricopat glanced at his queen and then at the black widow but nodded and slipped from the room, placing a gray shield behind him as he paused outside and turned in the direction Mistoffelees had gone.

Mistoffelees was standing at the end of the hallway, looking down at where Martin was leaning against the staircase. "You're very bad at your job," he said and Mistoffelees' eyes narrowed.

Coricopat stopped a couple of paces behind Mistoffelees, his expression shuttered as he looked down at Martin, his kept himself from asking what was meant by 'job' and only hoped what he guessed at was wrong.  He could feel the power of his jewels humming and there was a part of him that was rising to the desire to see which gray was stronger, his or Martin's.

"It usually only takes you a couple days to hate a court," Martin continued. "Because you're usually got at seeing how wrong they are. You're usually smarter than to fall in love," he added.

"If you go now," Mistoffelees said, the same offer he'd given the men outside. "You might make it."

"Would you turn on me?" Martin asked, stepping closer instead of away. "After all we’ve been through?"

Coricopat's hands clenched and he spoke lowly, "You've seen it yourself, he doesn't hate this court.  And you've tried to destroy it behind his back."

"Not behind his back," Martin said. "He was just moving too terribly slowly."

"You should have left," Mistoffelees said quietly.

Martin just laughed. "You couldn't kill me, Misto. And he might as well hear that you were sent here to kill his queen."

Coricopat paled at that, his gaze darting to Mistoffelees and then back to Martin, his tone dropping to a growl, "You lie."  It was worse than they had feared, and what he had never suspected having seen Mistoffelees around his queen.

"I'm a very good liar," Martin agreed. "But he's better."

Growl still thrumming in his throat, his gaze darted again to the Warlord Prince, "Is what he says true?"

"Yes," Mistoffelees said, and Martin laughed.

Coricopat held his ground, barely, feeling like something had fallen out from beneath him, "You've taken your time at it.  Why not simply do the job and be done with it?"

For a moment Mistoffelees didn't move before he finally looked over. "I didn't want to," he said quietly.

"Which is why my life has become so much more bothersome," Martin said and lashed out suddenly with a burst of power toward Coricopat. The steward felt the shift and threw up a shield just in time, stumbling back a handful of paces as gray met gray.

Seconds later Mistoffelees lashed out, still holding most of his power back but still sending Martin stumbling back. "You'd truly attack me?"

"No matter what you did in the past, one would think that Mistoffelees has paid his debt to you many times over," Coricopat growled, gathering power for a strike of his own.

"It's not a debt one pays once, or a hundred times," Martin said, pushing himself to his feet. "You're foolish to think he wants more anyway."

Mistoffelees closed his eyes and let out a breath. "But what if I do?"

"Then you can have it," Coricopat answered Mistoffelees, keeping enough of his attention on Martin to know if the other prince was going to strike but nothing beyond that.

Except when Mistoffelees' eyes flashed over to Coricopat, Martin didn't have to move to strike, throwing power at Mistoffelees enough to stagger him. Coricopat snarled at that, retaliating immediately with a flash of power directed at the man before them.

Mistoffelees pushed himself back to his feet. "Could you kill me?" Martin demanded.

"I could," Mistoffelees said.

"It's a matter of will not ability," Martin pointed out.

Feeling a seed of doubt that Mistoffelees actually had that will within him when it came to Martin, Coricopat glanced at the smaller man. His gaze moved back to Martin again, "You've attempted to kill the queen of the court.  If he won't there are others who are more than willing to die in the attempt."

"The only one with a chance would be you," Martin pointed out, tone idle before he struck out, gray power slamming into Coricopat. It might have damaged him more if Mistoffelees hadn't deflected it at the last moment.

Coricopat fell back, picking himself up carefully as he growled, "I never said I wasn't one of those who would be willing to attempt it."  He could feel himself weakening, but he knew he needed to hold out as much for the sake of the shield around the library as to see this finished.  He lashed out as he rose, a violent burst of power fired at Martin.

Martin caught most if it, having not used his power nor been exhausted from several days with Mistoffelees in the rut.

The steward could feel himself wavering, drawing on what reserves of energy he had and only hoping that he would last this out.  He reached for his power, though whether offensively or defensively he wasn't certain yet.

"Don't touch him," Mistoffelees growled, stepping between them.

Martin paused, clearly hesitating from where he was going to strike again. "He'll hate you," he said instead. "Even if you killed me, who'd want the man who meant to kill their queen?" Martin scoffed, moving to the side and sliding his power up underneath Coricopat's shields, trying to make him bleed.

Coricopat snarled in pain, sending another burst of power, though it was weaker than his previous ones, toward Martin, falling back and clutching at his side even as he tried to strengthen his shields and block Martin's actions, "Mistoffelees, I've said it before—Nothing can change how I feel about you."

Except Mistoffelees didn't even hear him, moving too quickly as he physically slammed into Martin, their power clashing at the same moment. Mistoffelees' met Martin's and tore it apart, shattering the gray jewel he wore.

*You'll never belong* Martin managed to drop the thought past Mistoffelees' barriers before he stopped breathing.

"I'm sorry," Mistoffelees said, leaning down to kiss his forehead before standing back and burning out whatever remained of his power.

Coricopat swayed where he stood, but lowered the gray shield around the library, letting Jemima know via the red thread that Martin was dead.  He paused for a long moment before moving slowly toward the Warlord Prince, "Mistoffelees?"

He shoved the image of Martin's body into the minds of those still standing outside, hoping that would convince them to leave. "Yes?"

His gaze shifted to Martin's still form before he spoke again, "I am sorry it came to this." Mistoffelees glanced over at him before turning and walking away.

Moments later Macavity arrived, stopping and considering the body before vanishing it to move it somewhere they could deal with it later. "It should have actually been an execution, for his crimes," he said.

Coricopat looked at the Master of the Guard, "Perhaps, but it's enough that he's dead and cannot repeat them." Macavity nodded, not entirely willing to accept it but not pushing it. Moments later he turned as well, looking for Teazer.

As soon as the library had opened, Jerrie had slipped away to find either his sister or Alonzo.  Tumblebrutus meanwhile had followed Macavity and from there went to seek out Mistoffelees, approaching him quietly while being sure to make his presence known.

“Can I help you?" Mistoffelees asked, not turning from where he'd left the door open on his rooms.

Tumble stepped inside, moving away from the door as he always did to give the other a clear shot at the exit, "I just came to check on you."

"I'll be fine," Mistoffelees said, already calling in his trunk.

"You're, you're leaving?"

Mistoffelees glanced over his shoulder. "We've always left before," he said. "It shouldn't be that surprising."

The purple dusk warlord dropped his gaze at that, "D-does that mean we always have to?"  He looked up again after a moment, "I thought you liked it h-here."

"I do," he said. "It doesn't matter."

"Why not?" Tumble demanded.  "Why not stay where you, where you like it?  Where you've s-seemed happier th-than I've seen you before."

"Because I've never belonged here," he said. "And now they know it."

"Where will you go?  Th-they want you here," came the murmured response, but he could see he wasn't going to make any headway.

"I don't know," Mistoffelees said and shook his head. "Martin told them though. About why we came."

Tumble slid toward the doorway slightly at that, "No, no he didn't."

Mistoffelees turned slowly. "What?"

The warlord backed another step at that, reaching behind him to feel for the doorframe and orient himself, "That, that was m-me. Wh-when the a-alarm w-was raised I told them."

Mistoffelees blinked once and nodded. "But he told Coricopat."

"A-and what was Coricopat's r-response?"

"I don't know really," Mistoffelees said, dropping the few things he'd unpacked in the trunk.

"M-maybe you should find that o-out before y-you leave?"

"It's not worth waiting," Mistoffelees said, considering the tapestry that Jemima had insisted upon him having before deciding to leave it.

"Why?" Tumble demanded.  "Not worth the chance that, that you could be happy?"

"Even if I stayed I might not be," he snapped.

"You don't know that," Tumble said, his own rarely seen temper fraying at the edges.

"Then what do you know?" Mistoffelees snarled, temper flaring up from where it had never calmed down.

The warlord startled back at that before answering, "That this is the closest I've felt to safe and happy in my e-entire l-life.  And, and I, I'm going to be staying."

"I would never have expected you to walk away with me," Mistoffelees said, turning away again. "You were never sent to assassinate anyone."

"And you never acted on those orders," Coricopat's voice came from just behind Tumble's shoulder and he startled, eyes wide as he shifted to give the gray jeweled prince more space.  Coricopat stepped into the room, his gaze sweeping around and settling on the trunk, "So you meant what you said earlier, then."

"Said a lot of things earlier," Mistoffelees said.

"I mean about you leaving," he murmured as Tumblebrutus slipped from the room.

"Of course I meant it," he said. "More now than either."

"And there's nothing that would convince you to stay?" His voice held the exhaustion he felt and he was certain he heard it crack ever so slightly in the middle of his question.

"That's not," Mistoffelees started. "There's no reason for me to stay, is there?"

Coricopat felt something snap shut within him and it hurt.  He was certain it hadn't hurt like this the last time he'd heard words similar to those, "No reason at all?"  His tone was devoid of emotion, but not in any way that heralded danger, simply as though he had locked it away where it couldn't do damage to him.

Mistoffelees' shoulders tensed and he turned around slowly. "Would you honestly tell me that I would be accepted here? By everyone?"

"Honestly?" Coricopat looked at him for a long moment, "Not right away.  But, but you wouldn't not be accepted either.  It would take time. But you would have people willing to speak for you, willing to stand beside you through it."

"The Queen is the one who would matter," Mistoffelees said.

"And I can honestly tell you that she will forgive you, and accept you.  Knowing Griddlebone, and how she's been around you, she already has," Coricopat answered, tone that of the steward at his duty.

"It's one thing to say something when you were convincing me of something," Mistoffelees said, not looking at him. "Another to still believe it after the danger has passed.

"You think I'd lie to you about what I know of my Queen?  She has stood for you against all logic since before you came here.  She chose _you_ as her protector during her moontime.  She chose _you_ as part of her escort to that gala.  And she and Jemima both decided to take _you_ with them on that shopping trip."  His gaze flickered to the tapestry and rug that he knew had been purchased at that time, "I do not think that she will have changed her opinions of you.  You never acted against her, no matter why you were originally sent here."

"I meant you," Mistoffelees said. "It was one thing for you to say what you said then. Are you honestly sure you believe it?"

"Which part?" Coricopat asked, warily.

"That you would have me stay," Mistoffelees snarled, anger still close to the top of his mind.

The prince held his ground and nodded, "Yes.    I told you once that the only thing that might change my response to you was if you acted against my queen.  You haven't done that, and even if you did it wouldn't change how I feel.  I want you to stay."

"You're not scared of me," Mistoffelees said. "I've never understood that."

"I respect your power.  I'd be a fool not to, but no.  I don't fear you," Coricopat answered, finally letting his guard down very slightly, moving out of his role of steward and into that of just a man.

"I could have killed your queen and walked away," Mistoffelees said. "I don't think you understand how many times I've done just that." He paused before continuing softly. "Everything has a price."

Coricopat drew a steadying breath, "You could have.  You have in the past more than I would care to know I'm sure.  But you didn't.  There's something different here, Mistoffelees.  And you didn't."

"I shouldn't stay," Mistoffelees said. "I can't..."

"Why can't you?" Coricopat demanded.

"Everything has a price," Mistoffelees repeated. "And I don't think I can stay."

"What price do you think this will cost you?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"I've done horrible things," Mistoffelees said. "So why should I be happy?"

Coricopat's grey eyes widened slightly as he finally got his answer, "You've paid your price.  You've suffered so.  Have you never heard of absolution?"

"It's been a hundred years of following him," Mistoffelees said. "Out of misplaced debt."

"Then why not stay?  Stay and do good for the land, for a court instead?  Consider it a way to pay back for all that time," Coricopat tried a different route.  "You don't have to suffer for it."

Mistoffelees finally turned. "Why should I stay?" he asked, not wanting to leave anymore but still asking for a confirmation.

"I don't know what answer you want me to give you," Coricopat sighed.  "You have the Queen's support, you have Jemima's support, you'll gain the rest of the court's support with time I'm sure."  He paused, "But honestly?  Selfishly?  Because I am madly and irrevocably in love with you."

Mistoffelees nodded after a moment. "Alright."

"Alright?" he eyed the smaller man warily, not certain he was quite ready to believe that.

Mistoffelees nodded again, his hands shaking as he set down the last thing he'd meant to pack. "And I won't wake tomorrow to find you've changed your mind and left?" Coricopat asked, hating how vulnerable he sounded in that moment.

"I don't leave in the middle of the night," Mistoffelees said.

"Will you change your mind about this?" he reworded the question.

"If I do, you'd know," Mistoffelees said with a frown.

Coricopat nodded very slightly, relaxing finally, though he ended up leaning against the wall as his exhaustion started to catch up to him. Mistoffelees watched him, vanishing his trunk. "You should rest," he said. "And eat."

Nodding again, the gray-jeweled prince pushed himself away from the wall, swaying for a moment before he steadied himself, "Yes, right.  Food first I, I think."

Mistoffelees walked over and pushed him toward the bed. "Just lay down."

He sank onto the bed before he thought about it, "I have things that I should be doing.  I need to send letters to Electra and Cassandra's courts, and I'm sure there's a pile of correspondence to go through that arrived in my absence, and--"

Mistoffelees pushed him again, making him lay down. "I'll ask Jenny for something to eat."

Coricopat lay back, his mind still running over things he really ought to be doing, but his body more than willing to rest, "Thank you."

Just shaking his head, Mistoffelees sent a message to Jenny and smiled when moments later a tray appeared. He sat down on the edge of the bed, sharing the readymade food with Coricopat. "You really should go to sleep."

He glanced at the other, watching him for a long moment, "You'll still be here?"

"I'll still be here if you fall asleep," Mistoffelees said, smoothing a hand over his forehead, even though it was still shaking slightly.

He leaned into the touch, letting his eyes flicker closed, "Then I'll try to sleep."

"Go to sleep," Mistoffelees urged him again. "You need the rest, after the last several days."

That garnered a faint smile, "You could probably stand some yourself."

"I will," Mistoffelees assured. "Now shut up and go to sleep." Coricopat nodded faintly and settled back, letting himself drift into what he hoped would be a peaceful sleep.

Waiting to make sure he was actually asleep, Mistoffelees pushed himself to his feet and slipped out of the room to find Griddlebone. The queen was moving through the castle, checking on the members of her court, feeling herself relax very slightly with each one she found safe.  She paused when she heard footsteps and looked up from where she had been talking to Munkustrap.  Offering Mistoffelees a faint, weary smile she inclined her head to him, "I was afraid you'd left."

"Would you like me to?" he asked, posture stiff.

"Saying I was afraid you'd done something usually implies that I would prefer the opposite," Griddlebone replied.  "I'm glad you're still here.  Walk with me?"

He nodded. "Alright."

She glanced at him as they started down the corridor, "Are you staying?"

"If you would have me stay," he said.

"I would have had you stay from the moment you arrived, I was just waiting for you to make that decision."

"What?" Mistoffelees looked over at her in shock as they walked through the hallways. The majority of people had been accounted for but there were still people running each way.

Griddlebone laughed quietly, her eyes alight with it, "I knew this was where you belonged when you first stepped through our door.  I was waiting for you to figure it out."

He shifted. "Do you mean I belonged here or that I belonged to you?"

She looked at him, trying to find the right words and finally settled for the basic truth, "I mean that you belonged to me.  I felt it when you came here, there wasn't any doubt then and there isn't any doubt now."

"That bond is not always enough," Mistoffelees said. "When there's distrust or fear or... or what I tried to do to you."

"What you were sent to do, you mean.  Did you ever actually try?" Her voice was calm, gentle.

"No," he said. "But I planned it quite a bit, I thought about it. I had just never reached the point where I could start trying."

"Do you think you ever would have?"  She glanced at him, her gaze curious.

"I was doing a very poor job of it," he admitted. "It's why Martin even came and why he stayed."

"Would you now?" came her next question, though it sounded mroe like she asked ti because she had to than because she was worried about it.

"No," he said, eying her sideways. "I made that decision."

"Then I don't see how we would have any problems."

"I was sent to kill you," Mistoffelees said. "I allowed Martin to slip inside. I don't..."

"But you didn't actually try to kill me, you're not sure you ever would have.  And you won't now."  She stopped, turning to face him, "I don't want you to leave.  If you choose to I won't stop you, but I don't want you to."

"Would your court accept me?" he asked, not looking at her as they walked.

"Given time," she said.  "Jemima likes you, I support you, and Coricopat is...well I should hope by now you know what Coricopat thinks.  It may not seem like much with the three of us, but the others although wary, and probably more distrustful now than they were, should come around again."

"Macavity won't be happy," he said. "Though I'm sure he's thrilled to have been proven right about me."

"Macavity hasn't been happy with any of my decisions regarding you," Griddlebone replied.  "He will learn to deal with it, and will also come around to it. And I never presume to know what he thinks about what he's found out."

That got a laugh out of Mistoffelees as he shook his head. Griddlebone's lips curled upward, "So, while I have you here, how is my steward?  I haven't seen him since the library."

"I fed him and put him to bed," Mistoffelees said, smiling wryly, feeling exhaustion deep inside his own bones.

"Which is probably where you should be," she advised.  "I'm glad there's someone here he'll listen to as regards his health at least though."

"Not so much the listening and much more the shoving him down until he agreed to stay there," Mistoffelees admitted.

She laughed at that, "It worked didn't it?"

"It did," he agreed with an incline of his head.

"Then I congratulate you on that, because I don't think even that's worked before. I'm going to again advise you get some rest yourself."

He inclined his head again. "As my queen requests," he said quietly.

"Sleep well, Mistoffelees.  It's good to have you here," she offered him a faint smile. He blinked once at her and inclined his head again before moving back toward his rooms, stripping and sliding into bed next to Coricopat, to be there when he work up.

o-o-o-o

Macavity shifted from foot to foot as he waited next to the landing area, glancing at Mistoffelees from time to time as he still didn't trust the other to be there, and especially not next to his queen. "They should be arriving any moment."

Griddlebone glanced at her master of the guard, "They'll get here when they get here." 

Coricopat's lips twitched upward, "Though they're usually quite prompt, which would mean them arriving within the next five minutes or so."

Macavity's mouth twisted, as that's not what he was worried about. "I'm sure they'll be on time," he said to himself as the carriage dropped out of the winds.

"How many letters have you gotten from the court recently?" Coricopat asked, unable to resist the question. 

Munkustrap answered from where he'd finally approached, "Less than we used to."

"I like to think that means he's settling," Macavity sighed. "It would be nice if our brother ever actually wrote to us himself."

"As it is we'll have to rely on what the steward writes.  And the occasional irate letters from the consort, too," Munkustrap said with a bit of a shrug as said consort stepped from the carriage and offered his Queen his hand.

"I think it was more the consort," Macavity mused, inclining his head as Cassandra considered them.

"I hear you've been having quite a lot of trouble, sister," she said, approaching Griddlebone.

Griddlebone offered her a weary smile, "You've heard correctly.  Though thankfully it's passed." 

Genghis followed a half pace behind his Queen, offering Macavity and Munkustrap a glance before he looked back to the carriage long-sufferingly.

The rest of the party emerged before Tugger popped out, looking around happily before grinning over at his brothers. "Someone could pretend to look happy," he said as Cassandra and Griddlebone went off to talk alone.

Genghis snorted at that, even as Munkustrap rolled his eyes and offered his younger brother a hint of a smile, "Glad you could make it, Tugger."

Tugger laughed as Macavity shook his head. He turned and leaned down to look at Mistoffelees, who had been standing quietly. "So you caused a lot of fuss, huh?"

"Excuse me?" Mistoffelees asked, arching a brow.

Genghis muttered something that sounded like "May the Darkness be merciful," before slipping off toward the palace. 

Coricopat watched the sapphire-jeweled consort leave before looking back at Tugger, "Still haven't gained any tact, have you?"

"I don't need tact," Tugger said, waving a hand and Mistoffelees' brows just went up. "Though, it's interesting that you don't display your jewels."

"Old habit," Mistoffelees said, considering the tall and lanky Warlord Prince in front of him.

"Macavity has more tact than you do, Tugger," Coricopat returned, shaking his head.

"Tact is overrated," Tugger said again.

"You severely underestimate its ability to make people like you," Coricopat replied. 

Munkustrap snorted at that, "And yet you like Mac, so apparently it isn't the be all to end all.  I should probably not be strengthening Tugger's argument it occurs to me."

"No," Macavity agreed. "Besides, I have charm."

Both Mistoffelees and Tugger looked over at him when he said that.

 Munkustrap nearly choked on a laugh at that and Coricopat arched an eyebrow, "We'll go with that and say it had nothing to do with the fact that I couldn't get rid of him once I had him."

"I have charm," Tugger protested. "I'm also much more successful with this woman thing then you are."

"I will have you know I'm happily in a relationship," Macavity snarled and Tugger laughed.

"Yes, but how long did it take you to get there?"

"Exactly as long as it should have," Coricopat said in response.

"If you insist," Tugger said and Mistoffelees tilted his head.

"I am beginning to remember why we get so many letters from Genghis for me to pass along to your brothers," Coricopat muttered.

Ignoring him, Tugger turned back to Mistoffelees. "You know I don't think I've ever met anyone more powerful than myself."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," Mistoffelees said, tilting his head back.

Coricopat pinched the bridge of his nose, considering if he should simply go inside and talk with Cassndra's steward about business they had needed to discuss.  He decided he wasn't that desperate to leave and looked back to Tugger and Mistoffelees, considering the two of them and the contrasts.

Tugger laughed and seemed unwilling to move away from the shorter Warlord Prince. "Well, I can see why you caused such a fuss."

"Can you?" Mistoffelees asked, arching his eyebrows and not looking terribly impressed.

“Tugger?  Remember the 'more powerful than you' part?" Munkustrap asked.  "And the fact that you don't have an off-switch?"

 "At least he's honest," Mistoffelees said and Tugger laughed, clapping him on the shoulder and making him startle.

"See? Nothing to worry about."

"Now I didn't quite say that," Mistoffelees protested but he grinned.

"How long before Tugger gets himself in trouble in this situation?"  Coricopat asked the two elder brothers.

 "Three days tops," Munkustrap replied easily.

"Probably less," Macavity said. "Unless for some reason our pissy and quiet boyo ends up liking him for darkness knows what reason."

"That's my expectation," Coricopat replied quietly, resigning himself to that possibility.

"The less or the liking?"

"The liking."

"We might be in trouble," Macavity admitted, watching where Tugger had made Mistoffelees laugh, the later looking surprised by it.

"We'll see far more of your brother than we have in the past, likely," Coricopat said, his attention on Mistoffelees.

"Let me figure out if that's a good thing or not," Macavity sighed. "So he really will be staying then."

The steward sent him a sharp glance, "I thought that had been made clear."

"It had," Macavity said, tone more careful. "I'm simply still surprised he decided to. And that doesn't mean I won't still be watching him."

"No one expects any different from you," Coricopat replied, still surprised himself that Mistoffelees had stayed.

"We should separate them," Macavity said with a frown. "'Straps? Little help?"

Munkustrap blinked at him, "What do you expect me to do?"

"I don't know," Macavity said. "You're better at plans than I am."

"Too late for plans now," his brother replied with a shrug.  "I say let them alone. Maybe Mistoffelees will rein Tugger in a little bit."

"Or they'll encourage each other," Macavity said and realized he didn't even mind the idea of Mistoffelees staying there anymore.

"At which point I will place the blame solidly on Cassandra's steward when he complains to me about them," Coricopat decided.  "After all, Tugger came with them."

That made Macavity laugh. "If they bring down a wall though, I'm going to blame you for not helping me stop them."

“If they bring down a wall, I'll make you help with the rebuilding because he's your brother," came the reply, a smile tugging at the steward's lips.

"Mother night," Macavity muttered under his breath.

o-o-o-o

Coricopat sat propped against the headboard, reading, the lamp next to the bed only just bright enough for it as a fire crackled in the hearth.  The blankets were pooled at his waist and his attention was mostly on the page he was reading, though he was growing increasingly aware of the man beside him.

"There are two points to being in bed," Mistoffelees said, watching him. "Reading is not one of them."

"It's comfortable, there is light, and I haven't the time when I'm not here," Coricopat returned, not looking up, though he had to reread the sentence twice before he absorbed it.

"That's what libraries, with armchairs, are for," Mistoffelees said again, still watching him.

"I'm not going to finish this chapter, am I?" He still hadn't looked away, but he made note of the page he was on.

"Is it really that interesting?" Mistoffelees asked.

"It's something I've been meaning to read for a while."  He absently reached to the bedside table and picked up the scrap of dark ribbon he had been using as a marker, placing it in the book and closing the volume.  He vanished it and turned his attention to Mistoffelees, "But I suppose it can wait a bit longer."

"Good," Mistoffelees said with a lazy smile.

Stretching his arms above his head and arching his back, Coricopat returned the expression, "So what did you have in mind then?"

"Guess," he said, sliding his hands up Coricopat's legs.

"Well, you said two things are what a bed is meant for, and I would hazard a guess that sleeping is not on your mind."

"Not yet," Mistoffelees agreed. "Though being around Tugger is exhausting."

"You're the one who decided to befriend him," Coricopat reminded, sliding down in the bed so he was propped up on his elbows.

"Well, that implies I actually had a choice," Mistoffelees protested, following him. "But I think I'd like to be exhausted in a completely different way now."

Coricopat's lips curled into a slow smile as he turned onto his side to look at Mistoffelees fully, "I think that can be arranged, easily enough."

Mistoffelees smirked and paused, still trying to wrap his mind around being in someone's bed and feeling comfortable. Coricopat reached out, placing a hand on Mistoffelees' cheek, "What is it?"

"I'm surprised is all," he said finally.

"About us?" the other asked quietly.

"Yes," he admitted, eyes glittering as he looked down. "Maybe time will allow us both to adjust," Mistoffelees said after a beat.

"Maybe it will indeed." Coricopat murmured, banishing all thoughts except the warmth of the man above him and the touches between them until they were curled up together under the blankets and watching the sun rise. 


End file.
